


Show Yourself

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Ignoct, Background Relationships, Bullying, Chronic Illness, Chubby Prompto Argentum, Getting Together, Gyms, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, No prophecy, Parent Cor Leonis, Prompto Argentum Has Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Male Character, Trauma, Weight Issues, background Lunyx, no magic, no royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Prompto is trying to lose weight and struggling, both with his weight loss and his body image. Enter Gladio, a handsome, funny, charming trainer at his gym. Gladio way is out of his league, however, Gladio has noticed him anyway and Prompto can't help but feel like he's flirting.However, at the same time, Prompto’s best friend, Noctis, gets a new physiotherapist - Gladio, and when he attends one of Noctis' sessions, Prompto sees another side of Gladio - someone who pushes hard and doesn’t relent, and Prompto’s own concerns for Noctis and worries about what Gladio will be like when Prompto gets closer make him hesitate to let Gladio in.Will Gladio be able to get through to Prompto? Is he willing to do what he has to to convince him? Or will Prompto let his fears and insecurities hold him back from what might be love?Written for the 2020 Promptio Big Bang!
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 58
Collections: Promptio Big Bang 2020





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> The time has come! I've been so excited to share this one!
> 
> The art for this story was done by the amazing [Scarlett!](https://twitter.com/katfayescar) She's great, and you should check her art and fic out!
> 
> Special thanks to [AnnaTheLoon for beta reading this fic!!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheLoon/pseuds/AnnaTheLoon)
> 
> Please be aware this fic may have some trigger issues for weight loss/struggles, bullying, and dealing with trauma. It came from a personal place since I've struggled with my confidence and body image issues. It's part of why I love Prompto so much. Read the tags, and proceed with caution.

**1.**

Prompto had a morning routine. Every morning, rain, shine, or snow, he jogged the two miles from his house to the gym with his duffel on his shoulder. He would change out of his joggers into shorts and a tank top, then stop and step on the gym’s scale. He would grimace and pull faces as he tipped the counterbalances down the slide bar and stopped both of them far higher than he would have liked. Then, on his way out of the changing room, he’d stop in the full-length mirror, and examine himself. He’d start with his pudgy belly, poking and prodding at it, trying to feel out if it were any smaller, then smooth his shorts down against his plump thighs, grimacing at the puckers where they pressed together above his knees. He poked at his own cheeks, eyebrows knitting up when then pushed in and plumped right back out, then poked at the gobble of fat under his chin. 

He always trudged away disappointed that his hard work had barely paid off. 

He’d had this routine for six months. The first ten pounds came off in the first month like a dream, but every pound he’d lost after that was a struggle, a fight. Every time Prompto thought he was winning over the fat, the fat got a leg up and fought back. Prompto couldn’t let himself get tired or give in, but he had no idea what he was doing wrong. 

He kept fighting. 

He had been trying to run daily, but he was always so sore after. He’d read somewhere that you needed to build muscle to help burn fat, so he added in muscle training three days a week. Three days a week for the last five months, he’d been coming to the morning weight-lifting class at the gym two miles from his apartment. The trainer would lead him and the other ten or fifteen people who came through a full-body workout with weights, squats, lunges, chest presses, arms, shoulders, and core muscles, with a genial smile and guidance. Prompto was a little proud that he’d gone from three pound hand weights to four pounds, that he was putting twenty pounds on his bar for his squat weight rather than ten, but even with that he wasn’t seeing results. He’d hoped he’d get a little more muscular, but he was pretty sure any muscles he’d built up were still hidden under a layer of fat. As he gathered the weights he used to load onto the empty bar, which made for easy weight changes between exercises, he found himself lingering again on his own weight, and how it’d be nice if he could take weight on and off of himself that easily.

“Quit that,” someone teased into Prompto’s ear, then pinched the lobe. Prompto yelped and turned to brush Cindy off.

“You quit it! And what am I doing wrong, anyway?” He turned his nose up as Cindy, in her yellow sports bra and compression leggings, began to gather her own weights. 

“You’re moping again.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Ya gotta get in the spirit, you need your energy for this class!” Prompto smiled weakly. Cindy had been his friend since high school, when he’d been one of the fifty guys in the school with a crush on her, but the only one to acknowledge he didn’t stand a chance. They ended up getting to know each other as partners in their workshop elective (which she took because she wanted to be a mechanic like her daddy and grandpappy before her, and which Prompto took so he could repair his camera on his own), when he found out that absolutely none of her suitors stood a chance (since she wasn’t interested in boys, only cars) and she found out that he made her laugh. They’d been friends and met up on the regular. Cindy had been the one to invite him to join her gym when he’d decided to get serious about getting in shape, and she was one of his number-one cheerleaders. “Seriously, hon, you’re doin’ great, don’t let the number on the scale get you down! Look alive, we got a new teacher.”

Prompto rolled his eyes but kept gathering his weights and the clamps that went on the end of the bar to hold them in place. “New teacher?” He glanced back to see a muscle-bound man at the front of the room, talking to a few of the regulars. For a second Prompto thought it was the regular instructor, but then, most of the male instructors looked about the same to him - jocks with pectoral muscles so big that Prompto probably couldn’t get his whole hand around one, abs that were sculpted out of clay, and big, patronizing smiles. Most of the guys in the gym looked like that to him, really - there was the odd heavier guy trying to lose weight, like he was, and older men on the exercise bikes or treadmills, but most of them were protein-shake drinking meatheads that were just here to get big biceps and sculpted backs, and Prompto felt like most of them looked through people like him.

It was better than staring. Prompto didn’t look at anyone else in the gym, what they were doing was their business. Sometimes when Crowe was leading the classes, substituting for Nyx, she’d point out when a particularly handsome man was walking past the studio, and most of the women in the group would turn to look. Prompto kept his head down and his hands on his bar. 

Still, it was someone new, someone Prompto hadn’t seen before, so while Prompto didn’t want to stare, he was curious. “Yeah, that’s a different guy, alright.” The new instructor, with his chestnut-brown hair that was long in the back and shaved on the sides, tied up in a little ponytail on the back of his head, wore a huge grin bigger than his (enviable) muscles, and when one of the women he was talking to said something, he tossed his head back and laughed, big, broad, and rolling. 

“He’s cute,” Prompto murmured, keeping his voice low. Cindy laughed brightly and slapped him on the back.

“Yeah, he is! And check the ink, too!” Cindy tapped her right shoulder, and Prompto looked to see what looked like feathers stretching down his shoulder and trailing down his arm, dense and close and patterned like a wing. “Maybe you two could talk, huh?” She reached out and tugged his wristband, and Prompto laughed nervously and pushed her off.

“Aw, c’mon, Cin, my little spot is nothing compared to that.” He gathered up his weights and took it to an empty space on the studio floor, and lined up his weights next to his water bottle and a padded mat Cindy had put down for him. “Wonder what happened to Crowe?”

“Hmm.” Cindy had followed him, and was similarly setting up her station, weights, mat, and water bottle. “Only one way to find out!” She winked at him, then trotted over to join the other women chatting up the new instructor. Prompto reached after her, a protest caught in his throat, but she was already gone, talking to him as easy as anything. 

He envied that she could do that. He sucked at stuff like “starting conversations” and “eye contact.” Instead, he pulled on a pair of grip gloves and set up his bar, avoiding looking at the little gaggle at all. Cindy bounded back over just a moment later.

“He says his name’s Gladio. He’s actually in the service with Crowe and Nyx.” She rocked on her heels. “Apparently Crowe’s gettin’ deployed for a month to do her reserve service, surprise surprise, and Nyx is still on parental leave - oh, did you see him and Miss Luna and baby Selene on Instamog?”

“Yeah, they’re super cute.” Prompto chuckled, then sobered as he thought about Crowe. Crowe Altius was enthusiastic and friendly, and Nyx had been encouraging and always stepped in to correct his form so he wouldn’t get hurt. He didn’t know this new guy, and he liked Crowe and Nyx. They were good people who made the class bearable. “So, uh, Crowe’ll be gone like a month?”

“Might be a month, might be more. Hard to say. Supposedly she’s going for training near the border.” Cindy blew a bit of hair from her eyes and went to tug her own gloves on. “At least it’s just the border, ain’t actually been any trouble in a good few years, what with the armistice and that treaty they're hammerin' out, so she’ll be back. Anyway, Gladio said he was a personal trainer before he joined the Crownsguard, he did physical therapy and such, and he’s easin’ back into it now that he’s back. He knows about weights, too, so he wants to try the group class thing.”

“Huh.” Prompto eyed Gladio as he broke away from the women to put on a microphone pack strapped to a belt around his waist, then rolled his big shoulders. Prompto’s mouth went dry, but he shook it off and got a gulp of water from his bottle. “Well, I guess I’ll give him a try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cindy beamed and slapped him on the back, just as there was a rustle on the microphone. 

“Good morning, guys and gals!” A warm, low voice boomed from the speakers on the wall, and energetic techno music came on a second later. Gladio stood on the dais at the front of the room with his weights and bars set up behind him, grinning broadly. “Glad to see so many of you have joined me, bright and early! I got one question for you!” He held up one finger, cheerfully asking: “Are you _nuts?!_ ” A few of the women giggled, but Gladio laughed too, clapping his hands. “Kidding, kidding, no, let’s get up early, get it done! Is anyone new here?” Nobody answered. It wasn’t often that anyone new joined the morning class. Gladio fixed his hair, scraping his fingers back through it. “That’s fine, but next time, you all bring a friend! I gotta make sure Crowe’s got a big class to come back to, and she’ll have to learn fifty new names.” He winked, and Prompto could swear Gladio had looked right at him. “Okay, so, before we get started, let’s make sure you all know set position and the basics.” 

Gladio demonstrated proper lifting form in set position - feet hip width apart, hands gripping the bar just beside the knees, joints loose, never locked even at full extension, bar held overhand to start. Once he’d scanned the room to make sure everyone had their form right, he kicked on the music, and the class started. 

Gladio never stopped grinning. The exercise was timed to popular songs, which was supposed to be encouraging and keep up the energy and set the beat for each squat, curl, or lift, with breaks between songs to adjust weight, and Gladio didn’t even stop smiling for breaks. His bar was always loaded for every track, four times what Prompto could squat and three times what he could press, but he never sounded out of breath as he counted out reps and timed the rhythm of each squat to the beat. Even better, he made little jokes as they worked:

“Squat low like you dropped the beat - and now we pick it up!”

“You can get lower than that! Hold it down longer than me! I don’t want any of you to beat me to the top!”

“Breathe out, long and proud, blow the bar away!”

Prompto was panting and sweating three songs in, and considered dropping from his usual weight for bicep curls to give himself a break, just as Gladio was giving guidance from his dais: “Give me the best you got for this track, it’s a short one so you gotta put more into it to get more out of it.” He winked, and Prompto could swear he was looking at him. “Remember, if I can do this three times a day, you can do it for me once!”

Prompto hesitated, but kept his weight at its usual point. It was a struggle, his arms were aching and sore, but he made it!

“And just think,” Gladio said as they adjusted their bars for shoulder and upper back work, “You thought you’d get outta here easy. Remember, cheaping out on your workout is like getting defective shoes on clearance - not worth it!”

Prompto actually laughed a little despite being breathless, and Cindy nudged him with her palm.

“Hey,” she whispered, beaming, “the big guy ain’t so bad, is he?”

“He’s good,” Prompto hissed back, “but I’m gonna regret trying to keep up with him!”

“I dunno about that,” Cindy giggled, then finished fixing her bar and got in position. 

Prompto stuck out the rest of the class, even panting and struggling his way through what felt like the longest round of crunches in his entire life, and drank his water bottle dry so fast he wasn’t convinced it hadn’t sprung a leak without him noticing. However, when he did finish and got up to put his things away, someone hailed him:

“Hey!” Prompto turned and saw Gladio bounding towards him from the front of the room. He shrank back as Gladio, his big muscles gleaming through his sweat-soaked tank top, his tattoo - an eagle’s wings, now that Prompto could see it up close - shining, stopped close to him. “Hey, I saw you! You were really putting the work in!” He held out his big fist, still grinning. Prompto nervously bumped it with his own, and Gladio slapped him on the back. “Mind if I give you a little advice?”

Prompto’s eyes were just this side of rolling right out of his skull, and were liable to if they bulged anymore. “Uh… uh-huh?”

“Yeah, see, when you do presses?” Gladio pulled Prompto’s bench around, lay flat on it, and grabbed his bar, lifting it like it was hardly a feather. “I noticed you let your elbows drop below the bench top-” He lowered the bar to his chest, his elbow dipping below the top of the bench - “And when you lift to the top you lock your elbows.” He raised the bar, arms perfectly stiff. His eyes - golden brown, like a spoonful of buckwheat honey - caught and held Prompto’s. “You’re overextending, and compensating. You’re overworking yourself in the moment and cheating at the rest points, so you’re gonna wear yourself out faster. Check your form in the mirror while you’re going.” He put the bar down and sat up, still looking Prompto right in the eyes. “Just try it, okay?” 

Prompto bit his lip, hesitant to admit that he couldn’t look in the mirror while he was actually moving. He hated watching himself move. “Um. I can try it.”

“Yeah, and if that’s a challenge, try doing the chest presses flat on the floor.” Gladio moved the mat to the floor and gave it a pat with his palm. “That way, your elbows can’t dip, ‘less you can go ghost, y’know?” He winked, and this time, his smile was just for Prompto.

Prompto shrank back and nodded furiously, hoping Gladio would mistake the flush that had suddenly hit his cheeks for red-faced exhaustion. Gladio gave him a firm pat on his _(_ _sweaty, flabby, disgusting_ _)_ back, and strolled over to another of the exercise groups. Prompto could feel his hand like a brand and started hurrying to disassemble his bar and bench.

Before long, however, Cindy was at his back, howling a little as she slapped his forearm. “Oh, ain’t he somethin’!”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto kept breaking down his workout station, and Cindy helped him gather his plates to take them back to the rack, nudging him all the way.

“C’mon, he’s funny, and he’s got a body like a damn Greek God-”

“And I have a body like Dionysus, Cindy.” Prompto rolled his eyes. “He’s not worth getting all worked up over. It’s not like there’s anything he’d notice about me. I’m not one of the guys anyone stares at.”

Cindy moaned and started to wind up into her usual meaningless comfort, all about his great personality and how being skinny isn’t _that_ important, but Prompto just sighed and finished putting his weights away. “Aw, f’r real, you know the person who cares the most about what you look like is you!”

“Seriously, it’s fine. Besides, there’s gotta be more than a good body for me to get into a guy, you know?” 

“Well, duh.” Cindy put her hands on her hips, then chased Prompto as he turned to get his water bottle. “But he’s funny and so sweet!”

“Because that makes him a good teacher. I don’t even know him, I’m not going to go ga-ga for some random hot guy who walks into the gym just because he smiles in my general direction.” He grabbed the last of his things and headed for the door.

He glanced back into the weight studio as the door shut behind him, knowing already he hadn’t convinced Cindy or himself. Gladio was hot, funny, and seemed genuine, and if Prompto were in high school he’d already be nursing a stupid crush that would pang at him for months. However, Prompto was a damn adult now, even if he was still the same embarrassment he’d been in midde and high school, so hopefully his stupid crush would go away a lot faster.

(He was having a lot of trouble convincing himself of that, too.)

However this went, Prompto knew his morning routine was about to get a lot harder.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto talks about his with his best buddy Noctis, and is reminded that he's not the only one who's got it rough...

**2.**

“So you’re all worked up because the new guy teaching at your gym is super hot, huh?” Noctis chuckled as he leaned back against the pillow propping him up, gripping his controller tight. “Maybe if you weren’t thinking so much about him, you might have a chance of beating my new high score.”

“Shut up!” Prompto chuckled and slapped his knee through the quilt from his comfy chair pulled flush to the bedside. Noctis jostled him with his elbow, not giving up on his grip on the controller. “I only lost the high score ‘cause you were home playing all day yesterday! It’s not my fault I have a job!”

“It’s also not your fault I’m better than you. I’m just awesome.” Noctis grinned at Prompto, then returned his focus to the big screen TV set up at the end of his bed.

Noctis was the son of the richest guy in the city, Regis Caelum. Virtually everyone in town worked for the Caelum family in some fashion, either as a reporter at the newspaper he owned, the Insomnia Sun (where Prompto was a photographer, natch), doing programming or admin stuff for the big online shopping company he ran, assembly and shipping for the tech company he owned with a big factory at the outskirts of the city, secretary work at the Caelum Foundation charity, or something for one of the countless other companies in his sprawling empire. Regis was basically the Howard Stark of Insomnia. 

Prompto worked for Mr. Caelum’s newspaper, yes, but he was more connected to Noctis than Regis. Noctis was the Tony Stark, but only if Tony Stark was ninety-percent less of a jerk. He was the heir to the entire company and every business under the Caelum umbrella. He had the brains to take his dad’s place someday, when he actually put his mind to it. However, Prompto knew him better as the quiet guy from his school. 

Noctis had been wheelchair-bound for as long as Prompto had known him. He had been in some accident when he was young, and from what Noctis had divulged (read: a little less than what Prompto probably needed to know), it had almost broken his spine. Noctis didn’t really talk about it much. Prompto hadn’t even asked about it when they first met. He just saw that Noctis was just as lonely as he was most of the time: Noctis was usually surrounded by people, but they were always just there to help him, asking him if he was okay, asking him what happened to him, asking to push his chair. Nobody really talked to him. Most of the time, Noctis was sullen and quiet, with a stoic mask on to protect himself from people who pitied him, people who only saw the wheelchair and not the person. Instead, Prompto saw the lonely guy. He was familiar with that lonely guy from his own reflection in the mirror. One day, he spotted him sitting alone during a rotation of assorted inside games during gym class, and made the first move:

“Hey, you wanna play ping-pong with me?” 

Noctis was boss at ping-pong. Nobody had asked him to play any of the games with him, and he’d just been waiting for someone to ask.

Prompto and Noctis played a lot more video games nowadays. Noctis also smiled much, much more than he used to. They’d been friends for more than ten years now, and Prompto had watched him gradually get out of the wheelchair, only to slowly sink back into it. Even after his body had healed from the accident, he was physically weak, and he never really got  _ well _ . Noctis eventually got a diagnosis of “chronic fatigue syndrome,” and he went through cycles of “semi-wellness” and “less-wellness.” For the past month, Noctis had been stuck at “less-wellness,” mostly bed-bound and unable to walk. He couldn’t stand up straight on his own, couldn’t get out of bed without help, could barely even sit up without something to hold onto. Prompto hated to see him like this, even if he loved spending time with him. 

After this long, they could talk about almost anything, even if there were things neither could admit to each other. Prompto never pushed, so neither did Noctis. Prompto knew if he ever did want to confide some of his deeper, darker worries in Noctis, Noctis would listen, and he hoped Noctis knew that Prompto would never judge him.

Which was why Prompto could admit his stupid little crush on the hot new teacher at the gym to him. Noctis wouldn’t judge him, and maybe getting it out would help.

So far, however, Noctis was not helping.

“Bet the hot guy would let you win,” Noctis teased, nudging him again. 

“Doubt it! He’d probably kick my ass then tell me how to get better!” Prompto laughed, then knocked out a combo and watched as his character toppled Noctis’ to the ground. “Ha, watch it!”

“You watch,” Noctis chuckled, but Prompto built up another bar of meter with his next combo and pulled a special, getting his second win for the round, and Prompto whooped and celebrated as Noctis groaned. “Damn, knocked me flat that time!”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who plays when we can’t hang!” Prompto chuckled.

“Well, go ahead and get that boyfriend, he’ll keep you busy so I can practice more.” Noctis grinned, and sat back. “But seriously, why not just ask him out?”

Prompto put a stern “are-you-kidding-me” face on and raised an eyebrow at Noctis. “You gotta ask?”

“Yeah.” Noctis crossed his arms. “You’re nice, you’re cute - you’re  _ really _ cute when you spike your hair up - what’s not to like?”

“Don’t kid me,” Prompto sighed, and Noctis slapped his shoulder.

“There’s literally nothing stopping you. There’s nothing between you and asking the hot guy out but you opening your mouth and doing it.”

“Dude, the thing that’s keeping my mouth shut is knowing he’d say no!” Prompto threw his controller down, as Noctis shook his head.

“You don’t know until you try! See, that’s just what I mean, you’re the only-”

The door creaked open just then, and a familiar man in purple scrubs poked his head in. “Knock knock-tis.” Noctis’ mouth wobbled into a weak smile, and Prompto sat up as Ignis entered. “I heard a bit of noise, is everything alright?”

“Prompto’s mad ‘cause I’m right, so he threw his controller.” 

“Hey!” Prompto squeaked. “That’s not- ugh, sorry.” He picked up the controller. “No harm done.”

“I’m certain it’s quite alright.” Ignis chuckled merrily. Ignis had been Noctis’ personal attendant at the Caelum manor twelve hours a day, five days a week, helping him to dress and do certain tasks that he couldn’t manage on his own, since his symptoms had flared again. He’d been there on and off as Noctis worsened, recovered, and worsened again for the past four years. He was in medical school, preparing to graduate, and Noctis had mentioned that Ignis wanted to be a family physician. Prompto had talked with him a few times, and while Ignis had been wary at first, he seemed to quickly realize that Prompto wasn’t a threat to Noctis’ wellness and tolerated him with professional diplomacy. 

(Prompto wouldn’t let himself think Ignis liked him, but he was fine with Ignis being cool with him.)

“Noctis, did you need anything? How's your blood sugar? I can get you a snack before dinner if you're low.” He peeled off his gloves - stained with carrot juice, Prompto imagined, from helping to prepare a doctor-approved meal for Noctis. Noctis lowered his eyes.

“Uh. No, um, m'fine.” His face went ruddy. “Actually. Could you help me get to my walker?” He smiled apologetically at Prompto. “Just need a minute, sorry.”

Ignis was surprisingly strong for being as narrow and wiry as he was, and he easily maneuvered Noctis from the bed onto wobbly, atrophied legs directly in front of his walker, and Noctis forced himself to take a few weak, staggering steps to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. Prompto felt his heart sink as the door shut.

“He been okay lately, Ignis? He doesn’t always tell me.”

“He’s about as forthcoming with me, sometimes.” Ignis shrugged, still smiling, but his brow was knit into soft wrinkles. “I do what I can for him, but he keeps things in the dark at his pleasure. If you know anything, I’d be happy if you  _ enlightened _ me.”

Prompto chuckled a little, and Ignis softly laughed too. They had fun. 

“I’d tell you if I knew anything. He does tend to hide stuff, but I’ll seek, if I can.”

The bathroom door opened a moment later, and Noctis staggered back out. Ignis was immediately at attention. “Did you need-”

“I got it. Washed my hands, too. All by myself.” He dragged himself back across the room, looking proud and exhausted as he got back to his bed. Ignis did have to help maneuver him back down, and Prompto hoped Noctis didn’t notice the worry written all over the lines in his face. 

“Remember, just call if you need me.” Ignis fixed the blankets around Noctis’ lap, and Noctis turned away.

“Yeah.” He lowered his face. “Thanks. Um, you don’t have to…” He trailed off, but Ignis understood.

“I’ll let you both know when dinner is ready.” Ignis smiled coyly and retreated, closing the door. Noctis gave Prompto a heavy, tired stare, and Prompto could see his eyes were dull with exhaustion. Prompto waited for Ignis' footsteps to fade, then gave Noctis' arm a light punch.

"Hey, man, next time, just ask me, okay? I can help you up."

Noctis grimaced and pushed his shoulder. "You don't get it."

Prompto thought he did. Prompto knew Noctis was happier when he was able to walk and move on his own. He couldn't, it was impossible for him right now, and Noctis hated it. 

However, Noctis tipped his hand when he faced the door, staring as if Ignis were still there. "There's nothing stopping you." 

Prompto's brow knit, but he put a hand on Noctis' back. "Maybe we can work on what's stopping you, too."

"Don't worry about me." Noctis picked up his controller. "Let's just play."

Prompto couldn't not worry about it. Somehow sharing his burden only made it feel heavier, and all he could think to do was distract himself from it. “Yeah, a little longer.” 

They fell into comfortable silence, ignoring the uncomfortable frayed edges of their conversation as they started another round.

* * *

Prompto was just finishing his morning routine of weighing himself and poking at all of his insecurity spots, but as he was about to head to the studio, he noticed that he could smell himself. Gross. He knew it was good to work up a sweat, but he hated how bad it felt and smelled. He kept spare deodorant in his bag, so he hurried over to grab some, but before he could yank his shirt back on, Gladio himself strolled in. He stopped for a second as his gaze landed on Prompto.

“Oh, hey! You’re the guy from Monday, right?”

Prompto felt himself flushing immediately and yanked his shirt back down, hoping Gladio hadn’t looked long enough to notice his stretch marks. “Um, I, uh, I come every day.” He forced a nervous smile as Gladio swaggered over to his bench and put a foot on top of it like a captain with a treasure chest on the front of a rum bottle.

“Wish I’d seen more of you before now.” He winked. “I’m always happy to see a friendly new face.” Prompto immediately looked at his feet as Gladio loomed over him. His trainers were nice. Solid-quality running shoes, not new but clearly well-loved. Examining the stitching on his shoe saddles was easier than looking Gladio in the eye. “Uh, you been coming here long?”

“S-six months, or so,” Prompto murmured. Worry wound its way through Prompto’s mind, and he tried to make himself remember what Noctis said - nothing was stopping him but him. He tipped his chin up. “I’m, uh, trying to get in better shape and build some muscle.”

“Yeah?” Gladio grinned, cocking his head. “That’s good! You working with a personal trainer, or just doing the classes and doing your own workouts?” He tilted his chin the other way, eyes agleam: “Or, you think you might wanna try a personal trainer?”

“Um, I, I guess I haven’t really thought about it!” He forced a nervous laugh, and Gladio snickered.

“Well, just wanted to put the thought in your mind. See you in class, yeah?” He eased back off of the bench, grabbed a towel off of the stack next to the sauna door, and swaggered back out, his ass perfectly framed by his mesh compression shorts. Prompto groaned and ran his hand over his eyes.

_ Good job, _ he told himself.  _ You managed to have a conversation with the guy and say absolutely nothing of consequence. _

“At least I didn’t say anything stupid,” he sighed to himself, then sat up and got ready to move to the weight-lifting studio. “Come on, nothing’s stopping me but me.” 

He knew there was more to it than that, but he had to try.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets a boost of confidence from Gladio, and then some very interesting good news from Noctis.

**3.**

Prompto managed to choke his nerves back enough to keep going to classes with Gladio as teacher, three times a week, every week. Gladio’s big grin made his gut twist every time, but he stuck it out. Gladio was always encouraging, always helpful, more enthusiastic than Nyx or Crowe, and always full of snarky jokes. He could make Prompto giggle even when he was out of breath.

Maybe working out with Gladio’s vigorous encouragement was doing something. A week after Gladio started teaching, Prompto actually notched the scale two pounds lower.

“Oh em gee, finally.” He exhaled, then stepped off the scale before the lever could tip when he moved. “Maybe now I’m past the plateau, I can actually…” He trailed off, then bit his lip. He moved to the mirror, and began to poke and prod at his cheeks and thighs.

However, before he could really get into it, he heard a whistle: “Damn, check out your back!” Prompto jumped, and spun around to see Gladio strolling in, as confident as a cat walking past a koi pond. Prompto’s shoulders slumped, like he could hide what he’d been doing, what he was looking at, but Gladio grinned and motioned for him to turn around. “Seriously, I hadn’t noticed until now, but you’re really getting defined in the shoulders and back.” He reached for Prompto and forced him into shape, posed with his hands on his hips and shoulders up, and Prompto could only cringe and put up a failing resistance as Gladio adjusted his position. “Yeah, look over your shoulder.” 

Prompto glanced back, and saw what Gladio meant. He did have some definition in his back now, ridges visible through the layer of fat. Prompto could see actual muscle. Gladio was beaming. “Now flex that bicep for me!”

Prompto lifted his arm to a ninety-degree angle, and Gladio matched him, then motioned for him to squeeze, gritting his teeth as he did. Prompto cranked his arm tight, and Gladio cackled as the muscle visibly bulged. “Yeah, check that out! Got myself a free ticket to the gun show!”

Prompto laughed a little, then shook himself loose. “Um, thanks. I’m, uh, not that impressive next to you.”

“So what? You’re not me, you’re you, and damn, you’re looking great!” Gladio beamed and gave him a thumbs up. “Keep up the hard work, I bet you’ll be able to see it without my help next time.” Prompto nodded, face going red, and Gladio clapped him on the shoulder with one big hand, then motioned to the gym past the changing room door. “See you in the studio in a minute?”

“Y-yeah, for sure.” Prompto nodded hard and held perfectly still as Gladio left, like Gladio was a predator who tracked its prey by movement. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Gladio rounded the corner and he let it out with a big  _ whuff _ , then wiped his brow.

“He can tell I’m getting better, though.” Bravery bloomed in his heart for an instant, but he looked back at his own face in the mirror - still pudgy, still too fat - and crushed it like a dandelion. 

He had a lot further to go if he was going to get anywhere close to Gladio. No point in getting excited now. Just as he sulked out of the locker room, however, Cindy was pulling his cheek.

“I heard that, darlin’!” Cindy giggled and tugged him out, squealing as she dragged him towards the weight studio. “What’re you poutin’ for! He was checkin’ you out!”

Prompto scoffed and shook his head, even as Cindy dragged him on. “C’mon, nothing to see here! I’m not some supermodel, you know.”

“He sure looks at you like you are,” Cindy told him, grinning mischievously and only taking glee in all the shades of pink Prompto turned.

“No way, no how!”

Prompto kept that tiny bit of hope underfoot anyway. If it survived whatever he had to go through to be good enough for Gladio, that might be enough.

* * *

When Prompto wasn’t agonizing over his weight and working his muscles to exhaustion, he was the junior photographer and photography editor at the Insomnia Sunrise. He spent his days going to press conferences and local events, taking snaps of minor local celebrities and other interests or editing his photographs to insert into the columns. It kept him busy, which was good, because when he was busy, he wasn’t thinking about food or his body.

Sometimes he didn’t even check his phone for hours, which was also good because it kept him off of his calorie calculator, and it wasn’t healthy to obsess. However, that didn’t lessen the guilt at opening his phone and seeing a few missed messages from Noctis. 

_ “Dude can u hang later?” _

_ “Iggy said he’ll make u dinner” _

_ “He said he’ll make you zoodles :barf emoji: srsly plz come over” _

_ “Dude plz we gotta talk I got really good news and I wanna see ur face” _

Prompto smiled helplessly and sent a text back:  _ “Tell Iggy I love his zoodles and I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” _

Noctis responded when Prompto was getting on his bike,  _ “thank u bro, ur the best,” _ and Prompto grinned and resisted the urge to send off a string of emojis in response in favor of pedaling off, up the hill to the Caelum manor. 

Noctis was waiting for Prompto in his wheelchair at the door (as Prompto had expected, since the front gate had swung open for him), and he was grinning like a madman as Prompto mopped the sweat from his brow with his hands, until Noctis held a towel up to him.

“I asked Iggy to put it in the freezer for you when you said you were coming.”

“Dude, you.” Prompto put his face into the chilled towel and sighed relief. “You said I’m the best but my dude, my bro, it is  _ you _ that is the best.”

“I know.” Noctis sat back, smug and content, just as Ignis peered into the foyer.

“Afternoon, there!”

“Heyaz!” Prompto grinned. “Thanks for the cold towel!”

“Anytime.” Ignis smiled wryly. “I do hope you’re ready for a new running partner. I’ll have to make certain there are two cold towels waiting.”

Prompto’s eyes went wide, and he turned to Noctis as Ignis dodged back into the kitchen. “Whoa, Noct, what’s up?”

Noctis’ eyes gleamed. “Dude, I had an appointment today.”

“Oh, man.” Prompto began to walk for the den from the door, with Noctis wheeling behind him. Mr. Caelum had renovated the entire manor to be accessible to Noctis, with ramps for every incline and an elevator installed that could access the whole house, a mercy given his condition. “So how many times did they stick you this time?”

“A bunch,” Noctis groaned, and he positioned his wheels across from Prompto’s usual armchair. “But there’s apparently a new medicine out, and based on some of my hormonal levels and stuff, they think that it might help boost my energy levels and build muscle.”

“Seriously?” Prompto’s eyes went wide. It had been a few years since the doctors had tried anything new on Noctis. He’d been quietly subsisting on painkillers and huge doses of vitamins, since his body struggled to process most things, as his weak bones and failing muscles only left him weaker and sicker. Noctis rarely complained, but seeing the unmitigated joy at this glimmer of hope spoke volumes about how unhappy his life as it was left him. 

“Yeah, man. It’s basically a steroid - the good kind, and the doctors are going to monitor my  _ everything _ for the next few months until I stabilize, if it works - and if all goes well, I might actually be able to start living a little more normally.”

“Dude.” Prompto sputtered for a second, then leaned forward. “So, like, you might be able to walk again?”

“Yeah.” Noctis nodded hard, eyes wide, earnest and his subtle smile brilliant. “I’m going to start seeing a physical therapist, too. Since I’ve been, y’know, down so long, I’m going to get someone to help teach me to walk and build up my body and flexibility again.” He smirked. “That’s why Iggy said he’ll need to have two towels ready. I’m going to walk again, dude.”

“So, you want me to walk with you?” Prompto grinned wide. “Dude, we can go for walks! All the walks - we can start a dog walking business so we can take  _ more _ walks-”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Noctis chuckled. “But-” He dropped his voice conspiratorially: “I got the first shot today and I feel better already.”

Prompto gasped and leaned in too. “No way.”

“Way. Maybe it’s the placebo effect, but I haven’t felt this good in as long as I can remember.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I want to be better. You have no idea. I want to walk on my own. When I get my Master’s degree, I want to walk across the stage. I want to walk into meetings with my dad. I want to not want to sleep eighteen hours a day and not have to call for help every time I need to get out of bed.” He looked Prompto in the eyes. “I want to fire Ignis.”

“What?!” Prompto squeaked, but Noctis shushed him.

“Dude. Like. So I can find out if he wants to spend time with me for me, and not just because I hired him.” His gaze dropped. “I don’t know. He probably knows too much about me to… to actually like me.”

Prompto punched Noctis’ shoulder. “I know a lot about you and I like you. I’d date you if we weren’t best buddies.”

Noctis snorted. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“More like you wouldn’t date me.” Prompto stuck his tongue out at him. “And like I said, I’m way happier just being your friend. But you’re way cute, so, don’t rule anything out.”

“Whatever, man.” Noctis rolled his eyes but smiled privately. “Bottom line is, I want that chance. I want to get better so I can find out.”

Prompto understood, for sure. Maybe it wasn’t the same as his own quest to improve himself - Noctis couldn’t help how he was, he could only try to make himself better, and Prompto knew he was the source of all of his own problems - but he could relate to having something to want to get better for. 

“Well, whatever I can do to help, just let me know, okay?” Prompto held his fist out, and Noctis bumped his against it.

“Thanks, man.” Noctis grinned, then crossed his arms. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask. Would you mind coming to some of my therapy sessions? For, like moral support.”

“Oh, for real? You want me there?” Prompto pointed at his own chest as if to be sure Noctis meant the person sitting in front of him. Noctis snorted and prodded Prompto’s chest. 

“Yeah, you. Iggy’ll be there too, to get information on how to help with aftercare or whatever, but I just want you to cheer me on.” His cheeks went a little ruddy, then cleared quickly. “Will you do it?”

“You have to ask?” Prompto chuckled, chuffed, and nudged Noctis’ shoulder. “Just tell me where and when.”

“Actually, it’s at your gym.” Noctis nervously drummed his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair. “They have a physical therapy thing there, you know?”

“I guess so.” Prompto vaguely recalled seeing a sign for physical therapy on the gym door, but he’d never paid attention to it because it wasn’t important to him. “Still, that’s great!”

“Yeah. Convenient.” Noctis nodded. “And my trainer is some guy named Gladio.”

Prompto’s jaw dropped and froze there. Gladio? How many guys named Gladio lived in this town? There was only one Prompto could think of, and his heart was racing just thinking of him.

Noctis easily picked up on Prompto’s shock, and his face lit up with wicked mischief. “Oh man. Don’t tell me you know him. Have you seen him around your gym?”

“I, uh, might’ve.” Prompto tugged at the sweat-damp collar of his tee like it had suddenly decided to constrict him. “He’s. Uh. Really hot.”

“Gladio’s the hot guy, huh?” Noctis grinned and sat back in his chair, smug but in a new way, directed at Prompto instead of over his own victory. “Cool. I get to give him my personal seal of approval, or forbid him from seeing you ever again.” 

“Noct!” Prompto whined, throwing his head back against the chair’s headrest with a dramatic  _ whump _ , and Noctis laughed.

“Not even kidding. So, tell me about him again, what’s he like?”

“Noct,” Ignis interrupted before Prompto could answer. “Dinner.”

“Cool, thanks.” Noctis wheeled his chair backwards into a K-turn to get out of the den, then waved for Prompto. “You can tell me over your miserable  _ zoodles. _ ”

“Ah, did I say he was the only one to be enjoying zoodles this evening?” Ignis smiled wryly as he held the door to the dining room open, and Noctis released a dramatic sigh.

“Iggy,  _ please…” _

Prompto followed, stomach growling, and he turned the situation over in his head. 

Noctis deserved help, for sure. He deserved to get better, feel better, be better. Gladio had helped him. He was sure Gladio had motivated him. Noctis could use the push Gladio would give him.

Plus, if he did have a chance with Gladio, it’d be good to have Noctis’ opinion on him. Brothers before significant others, after all. 

(He just hoped Noctis saw what he saw in Gladio.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For those who do not know - zoodles are zucchini noodles, which basically just means "spiralized zucchini that kind of looks like noodles.")


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto attends Noctis' therapy session with Gladio - and sees what Gladio's like when he gets serious.

**4.**

Noctis had told Prompto when his first therapy session would be - bright and early on a Tuesday, before Noctis had to attend his online lecture and before Prompto had to work. Prompto made sure to get to the gym extra-early so he could work out and get his shower done before Noctis came in. He was dressed in clean shorts and a fresh shirt, and just toweling off his hair, when Noctis came into the locker room with Ignis a step behind him. Noctis smiled when he saw Prompto there and motioned for him to come closer. “Dude, c’mere a sec.” Prompto put his towel down and approached, and Noctis reached out and gave his hair a vigorous ruffle, leaving it fluffed up like a crest of feathers. “I told you, you’re way cuter with your hair spiked up, if you do that while it’s wet, it’ll stick.”

“Dude!” Prompto squawked and smoothed his hair down, stumbling back until his knees hit the bench, and he barely caught himself from tripping. “This isn’t about me!”

“It’s true, though.” Noctis nudged Ignis, as Ignis finished putting Noctis’ duffel bag into the locker. “Tell him!”

Ignis eyed Prompto with his usual consideration, looking through him with an assayer’s eye. He then shrugged. “I believe Prompto is equally handsome with his hair styled or combed flat. It’s his decision.”

Noctis snorted. “You’re just babying him.”

“My opinion isn’t the important one.” Ignis closed the locker. “Gentlemen, shall we?”

Noctis wheeled himself out to the gym and towards a solid wooden door Prompto had never approached before, and Prompto saw something in Noctis shift. He could see his old stoic mask coming back on as the door opened and realized how nervous Noctis had to be. He gripped Noctis’ shoulder as they passed through the door and into a little office tucked into the back of the gym. The office had a desk and two frosted glass doors behind it, and Gladio was waiting at the desk. Somehow, he looked much smaller seated at a desk, wearing a tee-shirt, than he was when he was holding a bar. He was reviewing some paperwork at the desk when they entered, and he glanced up as they shut the door. His gaze alit on Prompto, and Gladio’s expression brightened for a second, before he muted his happiness and faced Noctis. “Noctis L. Caelum?” He stood and circled around to the front of the desk and extended a hand to Noctis. “Name’s Gladiolus Amicitia, you can call me Gladio. I’m a physiotherapist, have been for two years. Mind if we take a minute to talk about your goals?”

“I’m game.” Noctis shrugged a little, but Prompto had known Noctis long enough to see the way his shoulders sank. The nervousness. The fear that somehow, he’d fall short again. That he’d fail, or that he’d miss out again. “My chief goal is to be able to walk again, and also to regain some basic, like, body function. I know I need to build up my leg and arm strength, and my flexibility, too.”

“Arm strength, too?” Gladio frowned and picked up the file again - Noctis’ information, Prompto was sure - and flipped a page. “How long have you been struggling with limited mobility?”

“Two years, for the most recent stretch,” Noctis muttered, cheeks already ruddy. “I know I’m not as strong as I want to be. I have trouble lifting stuff that most people don’t even think about. So, I want to build my arms up some, too. I want to be normal.”

Gladio put the file down and studied Noctis. “I appreciate what you’re going for, but let’s be clear off the bat.” He leaned in, just enough to be personable but not enough to encroach. “There’s no such thing as ‘normal,’ okay? Every single person just does the best they can. What’s normal for you isn’t going to match what’s normal for, say, Prompto there. Walking, we can do. Helping you get enough function for relative independence, such as being able to lift household objects, we can do. Based on this, it’s going to take some work -” He tapped the file indicatively. “But we can do it.” He sat back, still appraising Noctis, and Noctis shrank a little more. “I’d like to spend this first session assessing what you’ve currently got. Your doctors sent some interesting stuff, but the best way to see what you can do is to put you in action and see how far we can get you.” He stood. “I’m not going to lie. These first few sessions are going to be really difficult. However, we’re going to need to break your current boundaries in order to start building you up. You ready?”

Noctis inhaled, but nodded. “Ready as I’m going to be.” He glanced to where Ignis was seated. “Are you staying here?”

Ignis already had a thick book open on his knee - Prompto saw some sort of medical diagram inside - and he adjusted his glasses as he tipped his face up. “If you don’t mind, I had intended on waiting here.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Noctis smiled, then wheeled his chair back and followed Gladio to the door of one of the therapy rooms. Gladio held the door wide so he could roll in. 

The therapy room had a chair, a padded table with a hole in the center, and plastic bins of tools, like weights, elastic bands, and small machines meant to help exercise the thighs and legs. Noctis tried to push himself from his chair to get onto the table, grunting with effort, then collapsed back into the chair. Shamefaced, he glanced to Prompto. Prompto jumped to his feet, helped pull Noctis up under his arms, and set him on the table. 

Gladio had looked on, mouth in a tight line, and nodded. “Is that where we’re starting? Alright.” Prompto felt the blood drain from his face - Gladio had never looked that serious when instructing, nor sounded so stern and disappointed. However, he turned to Prompto with a little smile. “You can stick around, if you like. Just cheer him on, okay?”

Prompto nodded. “I can do that.”

Gladio grinned and flexed his fingers. “Thanks, blondie.” 

Then, the session began.

Prompto knew he was just there for moral support. He knew he was supposed to sit in the plastic chair that felt too small for his butt and quietly encourage Noctis as he endured his first therapy session. However, he had no idea that the first therapy session probably constituted torture under the Geneva conventions.

Gladio twisted Noctis’ back sideways to check the torsion of his spine, quietly asserting that standard rotation of the vertebrae should be a few more degrees than Noctis could manage and even a little further than Gladio could twist him with assistance. Prompto didn’t hear any of it, all he heard was Noctis’ pained, quiet, “stop, stop, stop,” when Gladio forced past his natural limits.

When Gladio flexed Noctis’ knee, Noctis had tears streaming down his face, whispering, “stop, stop,” but Gladio kept trying to bend his leg just a little more.

Gladio hardly had to touch Noctis’ shoulder before Noctis was begging him to “stop, please, stop,” and Gladio actually scoffed.

“Don’t wimp out on me, I know you have it in you.”

Prompto’s breath hitched. This was too much. Noctis was the one in pain, and Prompto felt like having to watch was torture.

“Hey, man,” Prompto whispered to Noctis where he lay prone on the table. “You can do it. Gladio says you can, so you can.”

“I can’t,” Noctis protested in a hurried whisper, “it’s too much, too soon, I’m not ready-”

“You are ready,” Gladio interrupted sternly. “This is your baseline, your starting point. I need to know what you can do, and what I can make you do under stress.”

“But you’re hurting me!” Noctis protested.

“Y-yeah,” Prompto agreed, nervous at contradicting an apparent authority, “in c-class, you always say to stop if it hurts.”

“Exactly,” Gladio said, emphasizing every syllable, “we need to find out where it hurts, where he has to stop, so we can help him build past that! If we just stop where he’s comfortable, he’s not gonna grow past that - are you?” At that, he turned to Noctis with fierce challenge in his eyes, blazing like firelight. “Are you going to give up where you are now? Just gonna stay as weak as you are because it hurts too much to even  _ begin _ to try?”

He sounded so angry. Prompto actually felt sick to his stomach, and his breathing got unsteady. He began to feel faint, and it hit him that a panic attack was coming on like a sudden thunderstorm. 

“I,” he started, floundered, then tried again, “I’m...” Words failed, and he was gasping-

“Prompto,” Noctis said, voice firm, “Do you need to go sit in the lobby with Ignis?”

Prompto couldn’t choke out a “yes” but nodded and hurried to his feet. He didn’t look back, squeezing his eyes shut as he fled into the lobby, but stopped short when he ran directly into someone.

“Oof-” Ignis stumbled, then caught himself: “Prompto? Is something the matter?”

Prompto looked up at the thinner, taller man, trying to convey his spinning mind with his eyes, but suddenly Noctis yelled from inside the therapy room. Prompto clamped his hands down over his ears, breathing heavy and erratic as his lungs refused to fill, and Ignis’ worry flashed straight to furious concern. He gathered Prompto by the shoulders and escorted him to one of the cushy chairs in the lobby area. “Stay here. I’ll handle this.” With that, Ignis hurried into the therapy room.

Ignis to the rescue. No wonder Noctis was in love with him. 

Prompto forced his breathing back to a normal pace, his racing heart calming as he cleared the sense of impending danger from his mind. Ignis returned a few minutes later, cheeks sucked in and expression pinched, but less angry than he’d been. “Mr. Amicitia assured me that discomfort during the initial session is normal. He has said he will stop if Noctis is in genuine danger of being further damaged, but, as he explained it, one only builds up muscle fiber by breaking the existing strands to force the body to heal and grow new, thicker and stronger. This session will be the hardest.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat beside Prompto. “Noctis simply has to endure.”

Prompto held a whimper in his throat, but nodded. “I… I g-guess… my f-first time lifting weights was the hardest… but Nyx and Cindy encouraged me the whole time.” He swallowed, then managed a nervous laugh. “Guess, I guess it’s n-not that different.”

“No, and perhaps a more sympathetic approach worked in your situation.” Ignis exhaled slowly, shoulders sinking. “I informed Noctis that if he wishes to stop or change therapists, he need only say the word, but he said he wants to keep going.”

Prompto swallowed hard, but nodded. He did not think of Gladio growling into Noctis’ ear, demanding Noctis keep going, keep trying, with the unspoken  _ or else _ hanging in the air.

Ignis patted Prompto’s shoulder, turning towards him with concern in his face. “You seem quite shaken. Do you need some water, or fresh air?”

“I’ll…” Prompto took in a slow breath as his heart sank from his throat and into his chest. “I’ll be okay.” 

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Gladio pushed Noctis, slumped in his wheelchair, back into the lobby. Noctis was limp, eyes dull, and looked wrung out. His fingers were shaking where he tried to grip the armrests. “He’s a little tired,” Gladio told Ignis in even, chilled, professional tones, “but he did alright. He can have alternating heat or ice packs for any lingering pain, but-”

“Y-you.” Prompto stood up, heart already climbing back up into his chest. “Why did you - why did you hurt him? Why were you so c-cruel? You’re supposed to be helping him.”

Gladio’s mouth pulled into a tight line, but he lifted his chin and looked down at Prompto, putting authority into his voice: “I was pushing him, but I’m not just being mean for the fun of it. I wanted to get his best effort.” He patted the handles of Noctis’ wheelchair. “You need someone to challenge you, or you’re not going to get out of that chair. I can’t just lift you out and put you on your feet, you need to try to build up your strength, and if I have to push you to get you to try, then I will.”

“I am trying,” Noctis rasped weakly, not even able to lift his head. “It hurts, okay? I’m weaker than I thought.” The confession came out ragged, nearly a sob, and Prompto cringed as Gladio passed Noctis back to Ignis, and Ignis began to speak quietly and soothingly to Noctis as he pushed him out.

“It’s hurtful, though.” Prompto clenched his fists, giving Gladio a baleful, rueful glare. “Noct’s been doing his best, don’t you think he hasn’t tried?”

“And how am I supposed to know that until I find his limits for myself.” Gladio crossed his arms, and all Prompto could see was this big, cold wall, and Gladio’s hawklike eyes staring down at him like he was nothing but dirt. “This is my job. You’re going to have to trust me. I’m a professional.”

Prompto scowled, anxiety turning into defiance. “You’re a jerk.” He turned and stormed out, turning his nose up in disgust as he followed Noctis and left Gladio in his dust. 

He should have known all along - Gladio was just another empty-headed jock with nothing better to do than look down on the weak. Prompto knew his kind. How could he have let himself think any differently?


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto has a conversation with his Uncle and tries to come to terms with the Gladio he met and the Gladio overseeing Noctis' therapy.

**5.**

Prompto had two missed messages from Noctis when he got home, one telling him  _ “I’m gonna be ok, promise”  _ and another saying  _ “ow what the fck muscle do I have in the bottom of my knee what the fuck” _ and one from his Uncle, letting him know he would be calling in an hour and to please be ready. He checked the timestamp as he dropped his gym duffel by the laundry closet in their two-bedroom flat, and saw that he had about five minutes.

Prompto settled himself by the window and tried to clear his mind of his other worries. He didn’t get to talk to his Uncle much while he was deployed, so he tried to make the most of these calls. Uncle Cor wasn’t really his Uncle - rather, Uncle Cor had been living at a barracks next to the foster house Prompto had been shuffled to a month after his fifteenth birthday, and he happened onto Prompto sulking alone in the backyard more than a few times. Cor would talk to him over the fence, cool and calm, offering frank advice without sugarcoating, but never being mean, derisive, sarcastic, or anything short of honest and benevolent. Every once in a while, Cor would mutter something like, “What did your parents teach you?” Prompto never had the heart to say, “Not much,” but he was pretty sure Cor knew. 

Prompto’s bio parents had given him up at birth. None of Prompto’s foster parents had kept him for long, for some reason or another. Adoptive parents looked for happy, normal kids, not fatties who sulked all the time. Cor had more patience with him in three months than anyone else had in fifteen years. When Prompto’s foster parents got tired of his reluctance to open up to them during “group therapy” sessions and his continued failure to make more than one friend in the entire world, they were about to bundle him off to a state orphanage, until Cor came out of the barracks, saw Prompto standing on the sidewalk with his suitcase, and got angrier than any adult ever had on his behalf. Prompto had flinched, but in an instant, Cor had marched Prompto to his car, driven to a nearby apartment complex, rented a place for them in cash, and told Prompto, “You can stay here with me until we figure out something better for you. You’re a smart kid, and you’re almost a man, so I won’t force anything on you, but you deserve better than being bounced around like a damn pinball. I can go back to the barracks and give you space if you want, but-”

“No,” Prompto had instantly pleaded, “no, please, stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Cor had agreed, and over the next few months, they stayed together in their two-bedroom flat as Cor sorted out adoption papers. However, even at the last minute, Cor refused to sign on the final dotted line unless Prompto consented to being Cor’s.

"This is on you," Cor had told him, sitting at the table in the tiny kitchen they had cobbled together out of thrift stores and trunk sales. "You don't have to be mine, nothing changes except a little bit of legal mumbo-jumbo. I'll help you file to be an emancipated child. You still get to stay here." Cor swallowed as he scanned the paperwork again. “You're almost a man, I trust you with decisions. You can tell me to leave, or ask for space, or just say you don't want a dad. You don’t even have to call me Dad, if you want.”

Prompto didn’t really want to call him Dad, but: “Is Uncle okay?”

Cor actually had to turn away and take a deep breath, but he turned back to their little shared kitchen table, eyes wistful and wanting, and nodded. “Uncle is just fine.”

Cor signed the papers, and for the first time in fifteen years, Prompto had a family. His family was one old, stoic military field marshal, and that was perfect.

Cor had tried to avoid deployments after adopting Prompto, but Prompto was twenty-two now, and he couldn’t just say he had a kid at home anymore. So, they made every effort to keep in touch when Cor had to be away. That meant scheduling calls or video chats, and when Cor was home, they made every second worth it. Prompto couldn’t ask for a better guardian.

He really didn’t want to be glum on the phone with him. He wanted Cor to think he was happy, and he definitely didn’t want Cor to find out about a guy who’d broken his heart.

Prompto’s phone rang, and he picked up immediately. “You’ve reached Wiz’s Chocobo Post! How  _ kwehn _ I help you today?”

There was a pause, then a laugh,  _ “I’m not on a top-secret mission this time, kiddo. I know it’s you, and it’s me.” _

“I know, but I like saying it.” Prompto chuckled as he settled into his favorite armchair. “How are you doing? How’s Galahd?”

_ “Too damn hot.” _ Cor sighed.  _ “But the work’s not so bad. You watch the news?” _

Prompto swung his legs, trying not to fidget another tear in the upholstery. “I try not to, you know. I get so nervous when you’re away.”

_ “It’s just peacekeeping, kiddo, but it’s been a little busy. Nothing to worry about and no casualties, but the anti-alliance faction is still - ah, well, they’ll fall in line soon enough. The treaty’s happening, it’s just a matter of settling the exact terms.” _

They talked for a while, Cor recounting a few stories of his patrols - usually the lighter stories about little old ladies who would yammer his ears off at the corner stores, about how some kids were yanking the fence posts around the base out by tying chains to them and attaching the chains to their bikes, and how he caught those kids by re-installing the fence posts in thirty-inch deep concrete and waiting for them to try it again. Prompto laughed so hard and loud as Cor, barely restraining a chuckle, recounted the horror on the kids’ faces as he came up on them, splayed on the ground with their bikes torn up. Taught them a lesson, he had. 

"Sounds like you've been busy. I'm glad you haven't had any more serious issues!"

_ "I've been lucky, kiddo."  _ Cor paused poignantly, and Prompto could almost imagine that wistful look in his eyes. _ "Tell me, how're things back home?" _

Prompto automatically answered, "Fine," then searched for things that made it true. "Miss Lunafreya - the editor at the paper - had her baby a few weeks ago, so she's been home with the baby and Nyx and all. Aranea and I have been covering all the spring music festivals, it’s been wild.”

_ “I’ll have to look for the articles in the back issues.” _ Cor sounded proud, and Prompto basked in that. Then,  _ “How’s your friend, that Noctis kid?” _

“Noct? He’s fine.” Prompto paused. “I mean, as fine as he can be. Um…” He trailed off, wondering how much he could say, knowing where this was going if he did. “Um, he’s been trying a new treatment.”

_ “Yeah? And how’s that going?” _

“It’s… um, the medicine is good. He says the medicine is helping.” Prompto fidgeted. “But, uh, he just started physical therapy and, um, it’s been rough.”

_ “Yeah, physiotherapy can be rough on the body, but it’s important, especially for someone in bad condition. Hopefully he can stick it out.” _ Prompto bit his lip, already feeling guilty even before Cor went on.  _ “It’s like you with your exercise. I know those first few months were difficult, but you started seeing changes, building muscle, moving easier. It takes time, kiddo. Speaking of which, how’s your diet going?” _ Prompto winced, even as Cor chuckled just a little.  _ “Am I even going to recognize you when I get back?” _

“P-probably. Um, I’ve been making progress, just, uh, really slowly. You’ll probably recognize me, no problem.” He laughed nervously, a little too loud. “I’ll be happy to see you again. Do you know when you’ll be back?”

_ “Actually, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to call. I’ll be home for a few months, and I’m coming back in two weeks.” _ Prompto’s heart jumped, and he wanted to squeal with joy.

“That’s awesome! I can’t wait!”

_ “Yeah, I can’t wait to see you either. You’ll have to catch me up on everything then.” _

“Yeah! Sure!” Prompto’s throat tightened - he’d definitely have to talk to Cor about Gladio then. He wouldn’t be able to hide it, he was an awful liar. He was much better at avoiding his problems than actually facing them, but he’d have to explain his upset to Cor when he saw him. 

He’d either have to deal with it or get way better at lying in the next two weeks.

_ “Good talking, kid.” _

“Good talking to you, too.” Prompto squeezed his eyes shut. “Be safe, okay?”

_ “Yeah, I will. You too. Keep up the hard work. See you soon.” _ The line clicked, and Prompto let out a sigh.

He didn’t want Cor to know he was upset - Cor was a different person when Prompto was upset, because Cor got upset and for Cor, upset quickly went to quiet fury, and while Prompto was definitely unhappy with Gladio, he didn’t really want Cor to kick Gladio’s ass. He just wanted Gladio to be the sweet guy he’d met, not the angry bully he’d seen coming down on Noctis.

Then again, maybe Gladio really was the angry bully, and the sweet side of him was an illusion. 

Prompto didn’t know, but he did know he had to sort things out. 

He just didn’t know how.

* * *

Prompto ended up going to his default solution for his problems: Avoiding them. 

He couldn’t bring himself to go into the weight studio, even though Cindy waved at him through the windows as he did a cycle alone on the weight machines on the main gym floor. He just couldn’t make himself look at Gladio, sweating through his tank top and grinning at all the women in the weight lifting group, not when he could so easily see Gladio’s smile warping into a snarl, his genial encouragement turning into shouting and screaming, encouragement to insults. He didn’t want to be hurt. He couldn’t put himself in that position.

He saw Gladio in the locker room, but he hid his face in his locker while Gladio was putting his towel in the hamper, grabbing a fresh one, and going to the showers, and snuck out of the gym while Gladio was washing off. 

This solution worked for approximately two days, because two days later when it was time for the morning weight class again, Cindy cornered Prompto as soon as he emerged from the locker room and dragged him to the door by the hand.

“Now you listen here!” Cindy scolded him, as Prompto babbled a protest with his sneakers skidding all the way across the mats. “Y’all ain’t makin’ me suffer alone! Mr. Gladio said to bring a friend, now you get over here!”

“Cindy, he’s gonna yell at me!” Prompto finally managed to splutter, and Cindy whipped right around, cocking an eyebrow and puffing her cheeks out with frustration. 

“Oh, you come on. He’s not like that, you know it. You got nothin’ to be afraid of.” 

Cindy planted Prompto in their usual spot, then gathered up enough equipment for both of them as Prompto tried to make himself move, tried to convince himself to flee but was immobilized by the thought of hurting Cindy’s feelings. Gladio was already at the front of the studio, chatting to a few other students, but he caught sight of Prompto over someone’s shoulder, and his expression changed -  _ he looked so happy. _ He waved to Prompto, beaming, and Prompto limply lifted a hand to wave back. Cindy came back just then with their equipment, and Prompto began to assemble his bar.

“See, now,” Cindy said, poking his shoulder, “he was askin’ me about you. Asked if you were sick, or if somethin’ happened. Now, did somethin’ happen?” Cindy drilled her finger in, and Prompto swatted at her hand.

“It’s not like that,” he sighed. “It’s complicated.” 

Gladio was the same cheerful, enthusiastic instructor as always. He was encouraging, made little jokes, and pushed everyone: “I know you can hold that squat longer! Keep those legs down! Your butt is gonna look  _ amazing!” _ Prompto found himself smiling again by the end of class, even letting himself believe that when Gladio smiled in his direction, he was actually smiling at him.

At the end of class, after the music was off and while Prompto was putting away his equipment, Gladio strolled over to his station, still mopping off his brow. “Glad to see you back,” he said by way of greeting, and his gaze was warm and kind. Prompto swallowed as he faced him, his toes turning in and his knees beginning to wobble, and he could only look at Gladio’s face for a moment before letting his face fall.

“I’m, um, sorry about before.”

“Hey, it’s cool.” Gladio lifted his big shoulders and let them fall. “Ain’t the worst thing someone’s called me; I went through boot camp, y’know.” He put his hands on his hips. “You know why I joke around with you all while we’re working out here, right?” Prompto bit his lip and dared to look up at him again. Gladio looked proud but firm, not unhappy but with resolve in his expression. “I’m trying to challenge you. I want to encourage everyone to give me their all, and while I see you all giggling, I also see you all trying to rise to the challenge. I want to see what you’re made of, because I know most folks are better than what they’d normally do on their own.” He cocked his head. “You understand me, right?”

“I do.” Prompto sighed. “Just, I guess when I’m feeling good and having fun, it’s fine. But…”

“I know.” Gladio’s mouth worked briefly, but he didn’t say any more. Prompto figured it was probably because saying more would be a violation of patient privacy laws. “Look, I just want the best for the people I’m helping.” 

“I understand.” He couldn’t put warmth in his voice, and he picked up his bottle and towel. “I, um, have to go. Thanks for class.” He left quickly, still feeling anxiety pinching the back of his neck as he fled, leaving Gladio behind him. 

He still couldn’t reconcile how being nasty to someone could help them. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to.

* * *

Noctis texted Prompto while he was at work later that day:  _ “dude therapy sucked again, wanna come chill so I can whine at someone other than Iggy?” _

Prompto laughed and paused his audiobook long enough to reply:  _ “sure bro” _

It wasn’t like he wanted to hear Gladio get trash-talked, but he always had an open ear for Noctis.

Ignis was the one to let Prompto in when he arrived, his usually neatly styled hair tossed and his eyes ringed from exhaustion. He still had a polite smile and greeting at the ready: “Good to see you, as ever it is.” He also had a towel and a bottle of water. Prompto was pretty sure Ignis thought he smelled bad and was dehydrated after his ride, but he appreciated the gesture.

“Good to see you too!” Prompto returned his grin, and gratefully accepted the towel Ignis offered him. He mopped his brow and folded it over his arm, before turning back to take the water and taking a swig, before returning his focus to Ignis. “You look pretty darn tired. Is everything alright?”

“Ah.” Ignis’ smile was pulled taut and weary. “Noctis, er, he’s been a bit demanding. Apparently his pain is worse after his sessions.” He gestured with his hands. “Usually I have a bit more time to do meal preparation when he’s sufficing on his own, and work on my doctorate coursework, but he’s needed me more, so I’ve been - ah.” Ignis shook his head, then sighed. “Apologies. I shouldn’t - let me see if he needs anything.” 

Ignis led Prompto up the stairs, but Prompto tugged his scrub sleeve as they reached the top of the steps. “You should talk to Noct.”

“It’s alright.” Ignis shook his head, halting before taking another step closer to Noctis’ room. “I never mind going above and beyond for Noctis. I worry more when he doesn’t ask for help and suffers because of it.” He glanced down the hallway. “I’m proud of him, as it is. Go on, don’t allow my frippery to interrupt your play date.” He turned and walked down the stairs, and Prompto could distinctly see him dragging every step. He grimaced to himself, but turned to knock on Noctis’ door.

“It’s open.”

Noctis was sprawled on his bed, with ice packs covering both arms and legs. Prompto clenched his jaw, biting his tongue for fear of speaking without thinking. He thought, then grinned sheepishly and asked, “Movie day today?”

Noctis groaned. “Not a bad idea.”

Prompto popped in one of their favorite kung fu flicks, which the two of them knew line by line, scene by scene, and they ended up talking over most of it. “I’m sore all over,” Noctis moaned as he shifted his ice packs. His hands were trembling from the effort. “He’s a slavedriver. What a jerk!”

“You mean Gladio?” Prompto wrinkled his nose as Jackie Chun threw Benny Lee through a bar window, then turned back to Noctis, who was barely propping himself up even with pillows piled under his back.

Noctis nodded - and even that looked like it was taking a lot out of him. “He works me ‘til I can’t move at all. I leave every time feeling so damn weak, every joint and muscle hurts,  _ everything _ hurts.”

“Everything?” 

“Basically.” Noctis moaned. “Like, muscles I didn’t know I had, or didn’t have.” He reached down and poked at the side of his neck. “Like, did you know you had muscles here?”

“I mean, you have muscles everywhere.” Prompto chuckled. “Like, check out Benny Lee, he’s got muscles everywhere, they just don’t bulge out like Gladio’s.”

“Gladio this, Gladio that. Don’t know how you can find him hot, he’s the worst.” Noctis sighed and tried to sink into his pillow pile. 

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed without thinking, then bit his lip. “But is he helping?”

“Huh?”

“Is he helping? Therapy, I mean.” Prompto twisted at the waist to look Noctis in the face. Noctis frowned, then sighed.

“I mean, yeah. A lot. The twelve hours or so after therapy are awful, but… check this out.” Noctis moved some of his ice packs aside, then sat up. No bars to pull himself up, not pushing himself up with his hands. “I can actually sit up on my own again.” 

“Holy shit!” Prompto laughed and threw both of his hands up, and Noctis chuckled weakly and returned a double high-five. “That’s so great, I’m so proud of you!”

“Y-yeah.” Noctis squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Prompto’s hands. “It’s… it’s pretty awesome, right?” 

“It totally is, dude!” Prompto laughed, then shifted to sit closer to him on the bed. “It’s so great.”

“Y-yeah. He pisses me off, but it’s working.” Noctis slumped down again. “Still sore, though.” He turned up towards Noctis. “He, uh, he’s gonna work on getting me standing again. No walker.”

Prompto exploded with delight: “Yeah, man! That’s the best! I can’t wait!” He offered another high-five, but Noctis was a little slower to accept it this time.

“Don’t congratulate me until I actually pull it off.” He turned and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna try it. It’d be easier with help, though.”

“You need a cheerleader?” Prompto’s insides pitched for a moment, but he managed a wobbly smile. “I’ll do it man. Anything for you.”

“Good. I’m holding you to it.” Noctis looked relieved and smiled again. Prompto settled beside Noctis again to enjoy the rest of the movie.

A mindless kung fu scene was easier to focus on than his worries over Ignis, his trepidation over Noctis’ next therapy session, and his anxiety over facing Gladio again. 

* * *

Noctis wheeled himself to the physiotherapy office doors, with Ignis and Prompto flanking him. Gladio was waiting at the door with Noctis’ file in his arm, but something implacable shifted in his face when he laid eyes on Prompto. 

“Brought a little backup, huh?” His eyes seemed to glow golden, sparkling with mirth, and he stood aside to let Noctis pass him. Prompto was sure his gaze lingered a little longer than polite acknowledgement needed.

Gladio invited both Ignis and Prompto into the therapy room this time. He began by helping Noctis onto the table and running through a series of extended stretches. Noctis didn’t seem to be in nearly as much pain as the first time Gladio had helped him stretch out. Then began a series of endurance exercises. 

First, came the balance ball - it was a big purple rubber ball, about thirty inches in diameter and taut. Gladio helped Noctis move from the table to sit on the ball, his feet on the floor and his hips on the crest of the ball, and his back straight. “Hold position for thirty seconds,” Gladio told him, then nodded to Ignis. “Specs, you wanna help time?”

Ignis took his phone from his pocket and set a timer. “Here we are. Noct, if you please.”

Noctis’ eyes flashed to Ignis, and he gave a stoic nod. Gladio released his arms, and Noctis, with obvious effort, kept his back straight. Prompto watched the seconds tick down on the timer, as Noctis forced himself to sit up without support, then counted down the end:

“Three, two, one!” Ignis had joined him, and Noctis laughed and relaxed, but Gladio caught him before he could slide off.

“Good job! Been practicing at home?”

“Been trying,” Noctis affirmed, putting on a tired smile. “I can really feel my lower back now, it’s great.”

“Good.” Gladio grinned, looking genuinely proud, and Prompto’s heart fluttered in his chest at the relief in Noctis’ face.

Gladio had him do a few exercises with what looked like a metal butterfly clamped between his thighs - Ignis explained it was meant to help improve lateral leg movement, “the insides and outsides of the leg muscles,” and that Gladio could adjust the tension with a dial on the side - then had him use a balance bar mounted on the wall to stand on his tiptoes for short bursts. Then, Gladio had him sit unsupported on the ball again, but while Ignis and Prompto were counting the next set of thirty seconds, he set up a second balance bar parallel to the one on the wall. 

“Okay,” Gladio announced just as Prompto and Ignis reached ‘five,’ “instead of relaxing, I want you to use your feet to roll yourself over here.”

Noctis’ face scrunched, and Ignis rose from his chair to walk alongside the ball. Prompto could hear him murmuring encouragement, “Little steps, we’ll get you there.” Gladio motioned to him with his hand, and Prompto got up and waited for Noctis and Ignis by the balance bars.

“Remember what I told you last time?” Gladio said, and patted the bars with both hands. “Today’s the day. If I can keep you standing for thirty seconds, I can get you walking for ten. That’s all I’m asking for today.” He gripped the bars. “Use the bars to support yourself, and take a few steps forward. I’m not asking for big steps. Just put one foot in front of the other.” 

Noctis’ jaw was clenched, Prompto noticed, and his gaze flicked up to Ignis for a second. Ignis was stoic, and he patted Noctis’ shoulder and took a step back. Noctis exhaled through his nose, then grabbed both bars with his hands and pulled himself to a stand.

Noctis’ legs were shaking already. Prompto wanted to sit him back down.

“Hey, Noct, are you tired? Maybe you should take a rest.” Prompto didn’t want to hold Noctis back, but he didn’t want Noctis to hurt himself, either. 

Gladio shot Prompto a harsh look, Prompto winced and turned his face away. Noctis, however, shook his head.

“N-no, I’m gonna try.” His knuckles went white on the bars, and he forced himself to take a shaky step forward. 

Prompto immediately cheered, “That’s good, that’s great! Keep going!”

“Keep going,” Gladio said, tone sterner, and Prompto realized he was actually timing him. “Ten seconds. Take a few more steps for me.”

Noctis tried to take another step, but his leg wobbled at the knee and he had to catch himself with the bar. Gladio scoffed. “It’s not walking unless you move both feet. Come on, take another step!”

“He’s trying,” Prompto said, voice shrinking and dying on the cusp of his lips. Noctis, breathing heavily, strained to lift his back foot, but his front leg was too weak without both feet on the ground. 

“I’m trying.” Noctis’ protest was louder, and he whipped his head up towards Gladio. “Do you think I’m not trying?! I’m sore from the stuff we did before, but I’m still trying!”

“You’re wasting time talking when you could be walking.” Gladio drew himself up, and Prompto shrank. Ignis’ head whipped around towards him in a snap, but Gladio just stormed a few steps closer to Noctis. “Keep. Going.”

“I am! I’m trying!” Noctis shouted, and Gladio leaned close.

“Trying ain’t enough! Take another step! Come on!”

“Shut up,” Noctis hissed, and Gladio snarled.

“You ain’t even trying anymore, are you?!” He pounded his fist on the bar. Noctis’ legs shook. Prompto felt his everything shake. “You’re stronger than this! Show me, dammit!” He loomed over Noctis - too big, Prompto felt himself shrinking, he felt like he was flinching and couldn’t stop. “Come on, what’s wrong with you?!”

Prompto wheezed - he couldn’t breathe - and he stumbled back and away. His vision greyed around the edges, he was disoriented. His heart had started racing - his legs were turning to Jell-o - he couldn’t breathe!

Out of nowhere, Ignis’ hand was on his back. “Prompto. Prompto. Listen to my voice. Take a deep breath, fill your lungs completely-” Prompto tried to comply, but he couldn’t get a breath in. Ignis kept speaking in the same even but urgent tones, “You are safe, Prompto, you’re completely safe here, this is a safe place, breathe for me.”

Noctis noticed, turning over his shoulder. “Shit - Prompto!” Prompto saw his eyes go wide and the color drain from his face, but he couldn’t make himself speak, not even to lie out a reassurance. However, Noctis staggered off the bars, took three stumbling steps towards him, then collapsed in front of him. He managed to tug the leg of his shorts. “Come on, man, put your head between your knees and breathe for me.” 

Prompto tried to duck down, wheezing, as Noctis kept tugging his pant leg. He lowered himself slowly, dragging in a breath, and glanced around. Ignis and Noctis were both close, Ignis standing at his side, Noctis still sprawled on the floor and holding himself up with his arms, and Gladio was frozen near the balance bars, eyes wide, one hand halfway outstretched. He flinched, and slumped down onto the floor and put his head between his knees. 

“There you go,” Ignis soothed into his ear, “that’s good. Nice, deep breath.” Prompto inhaled shakily, then blew it out in a rush. “Deep breath, then exhale slowly, nice and slowly…”

“Hey,” Gladio said urgently, “what’s going on?”

“He has panic attacks, asshole,” Noctis hissed, then spoke to Prompto, much more gently, “It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry it got loud, I’m sorry…”

Prompto squeezed his eyes shut, and a thread of humiliation wound its way through his shock.  _ You let him see you like this. Now he knows how weak you are. _

“Hey,” Gladio said, and took a step closer, hand outstretched. “Hey, are you okay?” His big hand came closer to Prompto, and Prompto was suddenly keenly aware of how big and how close he was.

Prompto could only see that big hand forming a fist, and he yelled and scrambled back, covering his face. 

Ignis gasped and reached for him, and Noctis tried to crawl after him, but Prompto finally coalesced his thoughts long enough to put together a course of action:  _ run _ .

He was only barely aware of the hurt in Gladio’s expression as he stumbled to his feet and bolted out the door, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with the tears stinging his eyes, but he just kept running. 


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his breakdown, Prompto withdraws. However, a conversation with Cor pushes him to re-evaluate.

**6.**

Prompto ended up hiding near the duck pond at the park, his knees pulled to his chest, until his panic faded. He got two calls from Ignis, twelve calls and twenty-five text messages from Noctis, and he ignored all of them. When he did finally gather himself, he sent Ignis a text message:

_ “Tell Noct sorry. I’m ok.” _

Ignis replied with an affirmative, then added,  _ “Please call Noct, he’s very worried.” _

Prompto grimaced at the thought. How could he call Noctis, how could he call himself his friend when he’d been so useless? Interrupted his therapy session with his own stupid dumb brain trash? Freaked out over Gladio being mean to Noctis?

And how could he have liked Gladio so much when he could be so cruel?

Prompto swallowed his anxiety and plucked himself off the bench, putting his phone on silent as he turned for home. Maybe it was his anxiety speaking, but he didn’t think he deserved to be around Noctis or Ignis right now, and he didn’t want to be near Gladio. 

He was too much trouble, and Gladio was somehow even worse.

* * *

Prompto had been moping between his office chair and the sofa for about a week when Cor arrived home. 

Prompto would have met him at the station, but if Cor had called, he’d missed it because he’d been ignoring his phone, with an ever-growing list of alerts building up. Cindy had been buzzing him because he hadn’t been at the gym (he’d just been running every morning, doing push-ups and squats in his bedroom, and missing Gladio’s encouraging voice). Noctis and Ignis had both been trying to contact him (Prompto couldn’t face them, not kind Ignis who had ignored his actual job to comfort him, not Noctis who had crawled on his knees to reassure him, when he didn’t deserve it), and there was one call from an unknown number. He’d only dared answer calls he knew were from work. As such, it was a surprise when Cor came through the door, his duffel bag over his shoulder and deep lines under his eyes. Prompto jumped a foot and dropped his controller, then hurried to his feet.

“Cor!” He gasped, and Cor’s mouth wound into a thin smile. 

“Hey, kiddo. Missed my call, huh?” 

“Yeah, sorry!” He hurried over to him, and Cor slung his arm over his shoulder. “I missed you a bunch, too.”

“Yeah, missed you like hell, kid.” Cor squeezed him tight, and Prompto cringed, suddenly too aware of the fat on his back.

He waited for Cor to grill him about his weight loss (or his failure at weight loss, like he’d failed at so many other things), but Cor didn’t. Instead, when he released him from his hug, he swept him up and down once with his gaze, and smiled wryly.

“You’re looking good, kiddo. I’m definitely seeing some of those muscles you’re working on.” He flexed his arm. “Wanna show me that gun show?”

Prompto winced. “Uh, more like a slingshot, so far.” He weakly curled his arm, not trying especially hard, but Cor shaped his arm.

“Dunno about that. Pretty decent pistol on you.” He smiled with an odd sort of warmth he saved especially for Prompto. “You sound low.”

Prompto flinched a little, dropping his arm. “Eh, you know how it goes. Ups and downs.” He laughed nervously and tucked his hands in his back pockets so Cor wouldn’t see his fingers shaking. “You wanna tell me more about Galahd?”

“I will, yeah, but we’re talking about you right now.” Cor put his duffel down next to the laundry closet, and crossed his arms. “I wanna know what I missed.”

Of course. Couldn’t hide anything from Cor. Prompto swallowed thickly. “Um. I, um. I had a, um, falling out with a friend of mine at the gym.” He turned his face to his feet. “It’s nothing important.”

Cor knit his brow up, and his crossed arms tightened. “If it’s got you this upset, then it’s important.” He put his hand on his head. “Talk to me, kid.”

“It’s dumb,” Prompto mumbled as Cor pushed down on his skull. “It’s really dumb, and stupid.”

“People are sometimes. Even me, even you. But every dumb or stupid thing we do is part of who we are. We can either learn from it, or keep being dumb and stupid. I know I’ve made my share of dumb decisions, and at least once, only managed to fix my mistakes just before it was too late to do anything about it.” He slid his fingers into Prompto’s hair. “Learning from the dumb stuff is what helps us grow.”

“Y… yeah.” Prompto winced as Cor played with his hair for a moment, before withdrawing.

“I won’t make you tell me,” he said quietly. “But when you’re ready, I’m here for you.” Then, he slapped Prompto’s forearm and put on his usual wry half-smile, subtle and barely there but reassuring all the same. “Come on, let’s go out and get a meal. We can go to that place that has the salad you like, with the spicy shrimp.” 

Prompto grinned. “Sure thing. Thanks.” He slid on his shoes as Cor went to wash his face in the sink, and turned the situation over in his head.

Cor was right. He was smart and straightforward, even though he insisted he made just as many mistakes as most people. Prompto liked how clearly he thought, he always had. Maybe he did need to take some time and evaluate what had happened, what he’d been doing, what he could fix. 

Maybe he could talk to him about Gladio, when he was ready. He just wasn’t yet.

* * *

Prompto decided to start addressing all of his missed calls and messages, person by person.

First, Cindy. She’d texted the least, only a few messages after his first missed class, then a text or two every day after, first expressing teasing anger, then disappointment and then asking if he was alright, and then the most recent one, asking if they could meet up for drinks that Friday night. Prompto did answer that first:  _ “Sorry about class, been goin thru it. Drinks 2morro sound gr9, you’re the best!” _

Cindy responded with a big thumbs up and:  _ “Happy hour at the Post?” _

Prompto replied with another thumbs up. At least she didn’t seem especially mad at him, but he would know when he saw her.

The Post was a few blocks down from the Insomnia Sun’s office, and right next door to the Hammerhead Garage, which Cindy’s grandpa owned and where Cindy was the lead mechanic. She was waiting at the door when he jogged down the sidewalk, her jumpsuit half-unzipped to reveal her tank top, and her hands on her hips. As he reached her and extended a hand in a wave, she yanked her cap off and swatted Prompto with it.

“There you are!” She whapped him a few times, and Prompto yelped and covered his face. “Not answerin’ your texts, ghostin’ the gym! Had a gal so damn worried, I thought you ran your damn bike off the freeway or somethin’!”

“Ow, Cindy, quit it!” Prompto laughed as Cindy ineffectually slapped at his arm. “I was okay. Just, bad brain week.”

Cindy stopped hitting him and cooed, “Awww, you poor thing. We all have our off days. Just, tell me next time, alright?” 

“Sure.” He smiled, somehow already feeling exhausted. “Let’s get a drink. Just one, though, I’m still on a diet.”

“Diets don’t count at happy hour,” Cindy teased, poking his cheek, then slung her arm around his shoulder and hustled him into the bar.

With a beer in front of Cindy and a vodka and club soda at Prompto’s place, Prompto decided to recount a stripped-down version of what had happened to Cindy. “I was helping Noct with his therapy - or trying to, anyway - and I kind of freaked out when Gladio went all drill sergeant on him.”

“Noct - you mean Mr. Caelum’s kid?” Cindy whistled. “I forgot you knew him! That’s right, he was in your class. He’s doing therapy?”

“Yeah, with Gladio. Apparently he’s a physiotherapist when he’s not lifting.” Prompto shrugged weakly. “And apparently before that he was in the army, like Mr. Nyx and Ms. Crowe. So, when he starts shouting and gets loud, I kind of go to a bad place.”

Cindy sympathetically rubbed his back, brow knit up, and she leaned over the bar. “Sweetie, I know how it goes. Guys like him can be rough around the edges, but I know plenty of rough guys like him, and it’s all a play. They’re softies once you get past that.”

“But how am I supposed to get past that?” Prompto sighed. “I’m not even sure I want to, because what if he really is just that hard?”

“I’m tellin’ you, he ain’t.” Cindy rubbed big, crooked circles on his back. “He asked me about you again. He said he was worried as hell about’cha.”

Prompto winced. “I dunno if I can face him.” He nudged her arm as she withdrew. “Let me know when Mr. Nyx comes back, alright? I think I’ll just work out on my own for a little while.”

Cindy knit her brow up. “Are ya sure? You know a guy like him won’t wait around forever.”

“I’m not going to expect him to.” Prompto took a sip from his vodka and soda. “I think he might just be too much for me, you know?”

Cindy hummed, then pinched his cheek. He jerked away from her, but she smiled at him when he looked at her. “Give it time, darlin’. I’ll keep your bench warm for ya. Don’t leave a gal alone, alright?”

“Right,” Prompto sighed after a moment, then nudged her arm. “How’s your Pawpaw been? He appreciate you getting some extra muscle? Or are you just humiliating the other mechanics?”

Cindy laughed right through the subject change and showed off her biceps. “Go on an’ ask me what Lib and Luche think o’ these?”

They talked and laughed together for the rest of the evening, but Prompto didn’t miss Cindy’s sad little smile as they parted. He knew she’d miss working out with him, but he couldn’t help but feel there was more to it than that.

He didn’t let his mind linger on it too long. The last thing he ever wanted from Cindy was pity.

* * *

Prompto knew he needed to call Noct. He owed it to him. 

He was just having a really hard time doing it. 

Noctis had stopped calling and texting after two days of radio silence from Prompto, and now, every time Prompto opened their message history to try to respond, he just started reading back through them, and then found himself only feeling worse and worse. The guilt only compounded the longer the days stretched, and Prompto actually started to feel sick to his stomach when he thought about it. 

He wasn’t the one to break the ice, however.

Instead, Prompto was in the middle of his lunch salad, sitting crooked in his spinning chair in his cubicle, when his phone rang. The screen displayed an unfamiliar number. He couldn’t guess who it might have been - Cor from work? Someone at the gym asking about him for Gladio? Still, the last time he’d missed a call from an unknown number, it had been Cor, so he answered it. “Hello?” Then, he braced for impact. 

Instead, silence. Then:  _ “Hello, have I reached Prompto Argentum?” _

“Ignis?” Prompto startled so badly he nearly dropped his salad. “Oh - um - yeah! Did you-”

Ignis sighed with relief on the other end of the line.  _ “I may have borrowed Noctis’ house phone. I had assumed you were avoiding calls from familiar numbers so I presumed to try a different route, out of concern for your wellness.” _ Prompto winced - who let Ignis get this smart?  _ “I’ll cut to the chase. Are you well? Have you been well?” _

Prompto grimaced, gut twisting from the anxiety. “Um. I’ve. I’ve been. Okay.” He gripped the edge of his desk to ground himself. “H-how are you?”

_ “Well enough.” _ Prompto found himself doubting that. Ignis sounded exhausted now that Prompto was listening for it.  _ “Unfortunately, Noctis has been in rare form. Erm. I fear he blames himself for… for the other day, you see.” _

Prompto winced. “It’s not his fault. He shouldn’t blame himself for my stupid brain going all stupid. I’m, like, the worst friend ever, God, I’m sorry.”

_ “Prompto, blaming yourself is the last thing you should do.” _ Ignis sounded more exhausted than ever.  _ “You had no way of knowing Gladio’s method of encouraging Noctis would trigger your anxiety that sharply. None of us did. You did nothing wrong.” _

Prompto squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to let himself be soothed. He didn’t deserve it. 

_ “I wanted to ask, as a favor…” _ Ignis trailed off, sighed, and sounded even more tired when he spoke again.  _ “Please come over and visit with Noctis.” _ Prompto bit his lip, but Ignis pleaded,  _ “He’s distressed after your panic. He blames himself. He’s been trying to keep up with therapy but he’s emotionally wrought without you to give him any sort of relief. Please. He could use your company. It’s the only medicine that will heal this malady.” _

Prompto sucked on his chewed-up lower lip, turning it over. He didn’t deserve Noctis as a friend, and he hadn’t been able to stand up for him when he needed it. However, he couldn’t stand the thought of Noctis suffering because Prompto wasn’t there for him now. 

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. I’ll text him and see if he’s up for a visit.”

_ “You have my thanks.” _

“Don’t thank me yet.” Prompto chuckled weakly. “Thanks for calling.”

He hung up, then texted Noctis:  _ “Sorry bro. Can I stop over for a little bit?” _

The response came so fast Prompto’s head spun at the rush of whipping his phone back out of his pocket.  _ “Plz” _

Prompto biked over to the Caelum manor, right past security, and knocked on the door. Ignis opened the door, a bottle of water and a fresh towel at the ready, as well as an expression of immeasurable gratitude.

Noctis was laid flat in bed when Prompto came in, backpack swinging off his shoulder. He looked somehow flatter than ever, and Prompto’s heart sank to see him sunken and sullen. “Hey, dude.” He circled the bed to his usual cushion on the floor. Noctis’ gaze followed him through the room, and he reached out to swat Prompto’s arm as he sat down.

“Hey, dude, yourself.” He sank a little deeper into the cushions. “You were gone a while. You doing okay?”

Flat affect, no emotion. Toneless. Noctis sounded so empty that it echoed painfully in Prompto’s chest. 

“I’ve, um, been okay. Just sort of dealing, you know.” He fidgeted and avoided Noctis’ gaze. “I’m really sorry I, y’know, freaked out.”

“I’m not upset about that.” Noctis’ eyes fell closed. “I just missed you, okay?”

“You… you had Ignis.” Prompto’s eyes fell. “He was more helpful to you than me.”

“So what?” Noctis got a little sharper, voice rising even though he didn’t seem to have the strength to sit up. “I didn’t ask you to help. I just wanted you there. And I understand that you couldn’t, I know what it’s like to not have it in you to do stuff you want to do or that others want you to do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still want you around!”

“I’m sorry.” Prompto shrank back. “I, um, I brought a game to make it up to you.” He grasped for his backpack and took a bag out, but Noctis swatted it from his hands.

“I didn’t ask for that,” he muttered, real heat in his tones now. “I wanted you.” Noctis grasped for the edge of the bed and pulled himself up with pained determination in his gritted teeth. “But you know what I really want? I want to go out and get new games with you.” He was shaking, and Prompto nearly told Noctis to lay back down, but Noctis, determined, kept himself upright. “You get why I have to keep doing PT, right? Why I need him to push me? It’s because I miss going to arcades with you like we did in high school.” 

Prompto winced, because those fond memories were fresh. He still remembered the first time they tried to go after Noctis had declined so badly that he needed the wheelchair, how the machines were too close and the owner scolded them when Noctis’ wheels bumped the walls. It was shitty and Regis had nearly sued the arcade for kicking them out, but Noctis had begged him out of it, as the suit would likely close the arcade. They still never went back. 

“And,” Noctis went on, “I wanna go to the mall so we can look at new games together, or just window shop, or just, like go somewhere and look around and see what’s there! I wanna go fishing again, I haven’t been fishing since before the accident!” Prompto’s eyes went wide - had he even known Noctis liked fishing?

“You know I want you to have all that, right?” Prompto grabbed Noctis’ hand where it rested on the bedframe. “I want you to be happy.”

“Me too, dammit! I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired and trapped in bed, or the chair!” Noctis pulled his hand from under Prompto’s and pulled it into a determined fist. “Even the chair is better than this. I hate that I’m back here.” He clenched his jaw. “I… I haven’t been back since, and I backslid so fast.” Noctis’ eyes dropped, eyelashes fluttering as if they were fanning back oncoming tears. “I know… I know Ignis probably resents me, because I’ve asked so much more of him lately.”

Prompto’s heart jumped into his throat. “Noct, that’s not-”

“I have to fix it.” Noctis held Prompto’s gaze. “I couldn’t bring myself to go, knowing that he hurt you, but I want to. I know you’re uncomfortable, but he was helping me.” This time, he put his hand over Prompto’s. “Would you hate me if I kept going?”

“No, of course not!” Prompto shook his head as hard as he could. “You should go. If he’s helping you, you should go. I want you to be happy.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis sighed, then reached for something on the other side of the bed - an envelope, Prompto realized, and Noctis shoved it towards him. “And… you should be happy too.” 

Prompto looked at the envelope, and saw a handwritten note from Gladio on the gym’s paper:  _ “For Prompto Argentum. Good for one personal training session.” _

“He sent a letter, documenting my progress and saying that our last session ended badly, and he was sorry he tried to push me too hard, too fast.” Noctis sat back against the headrest of his bed. “And… in the letter, he wanted me to give you that. He really wants to see you, dude.” He shook his head. “He’s a jerk, but I think he’s a jerk because he cares so much.” Prompto stared down at the ticket, and Noctis looked him in the face. “Are you going to go?”

Prompto’s jaw dropped and hung open. He was completely lost for words. However, Noctis smiled and took the envelope from his hand and shoved it into his backpack.

“So, you wanna talk about hot guys we’re not sure we can handle?” He adjusted the pillows around himself so he could keep himself upright. “I could tell you all about the first date I’m never going to have the nerve to ask Ignis on.”

Prompto smiled, and put the question of Gladio aside for the moment. “Sure, dude. Anything you like.”


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto lets himself be pushed towards Gladio to give him one last chance.

**7.**

Noctis fell asleep after only an hour of hanging out and talking to Prompto. Prompto went down to check in with Ignis, and found him swaying on his feet at the sink. Prompto caught him by the shoulder. “Whoa, you okay?”

Ignis started, but pivoted around, eyes wide, to look at Prompto. “Ah, apologies. I’m quite alright, merely…” He trailed off, glancing at the dishes still in the sink. “I’ve been having a bit of trouble keeping up with Noctis’ needs while preparing for my final exams.”

“Oh!” Prompto eyed the dishes, then rolled his already-short sleeves symbolically. “Well, a burden shared is a burden halved! I don’t know how much I can do about your studying, or how much more I can do for Noct, but I can do dishes.” He waved Ignis off. “Go ahead, take a load off! I’ll get the load in the wash.”

Ignis began to muster a protest as Prompto sidled up to the sink. However, he gave it up when Prompto turned the water on and started without waiting for Ignis’ say-so. “I… I appreciate the offer, thank you.” He backstepped, still hesitating, as Prompto began to scrub the dishes, then finally seated himself. He slumped with a sigh, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. Prompto glanced over his shoulder, but kept working.

“I guess it’s been hard, with him in worse condition than usual.”

Ignis exhaled sharply through his nose in a snort. “He’s been much worse. No, what’s been difficult is seeing him make so much progress, then losing hope and backsliding.” He hung his head, bowing forward like a crumbling bridge. “He’s needed more of me, but he’s also been so emotionally distraught. It’s made him more difficult. He’s been moody and upset, and at the same time, I can tell how heartbroken he was to have hurt you, even if he could never bring himself to say it."

“You could tell, huh?” Prompto knit his brow up, and Ignis nodded.

“I’ve rather come to understand him. He’s so often a wall, but I think I’ve come to know him enough to tell that much.” He sighed. “I wish I did understand him. When he’s good, he can be so very good. I’d like the chance to see who he is when he’s got the disease under control.”

“Yeah.” Prompto put the dish he was working on in the rack. It looked clean to him, though it didn’t have the same shine Ignis somehow managed to pull off. Still, good enough. “I guess I would, too.” He bit his lip, then glanced back. “Hey, so. I, um, wanted to ask.” He turned right around before Ignis could make eye contact with him. “Gladio? Um, Noct’s therapist. I met him at the gym, he teaches the weight class I like. And, like, I liked him, he’s funny, but…” Prompto swallowed thickly. “When he shouts, I get so anxious.”

“Understandably.” Ignis nodded sagely, then turned his chair to face Prompto. “I had some inkling there may have been more between the two of you than first met the eye.”

Prompto’s face burned. “Uh, yeah. I dunno how he feels, but… I dunno, right? I think he at least likes me as, like a friend, but I’m so nervous, you know?”

“I know how hard it can be to meet new people,” Ignis said carefully. “And how much harder it can be to learn to trust them, to let them find out who you are. However, I will say that you were a different person in the few weeks after you first mentioned him to Noctis. He brought something out in you, a light in your eyes I’m not certain was always there.”

“Do you think so?” Prompto furrowed his brow, then finished washing the last pan. “I dunno. I just, when he shouts, I…” He trailed off, sighed, then turned to face Ignis. “He gave Noct a coupon to give me, for a free personal training with him, and I’m not sure if I should go for it.”

“I don’t see why not.” Ignis lifted his shoulders. “After all, it’d be at his workplace, with others around, so if he did begin to shout, you’d be safe with others, and he seemed quite earnest when he was asking me to apologize.”

Prompto raised his eyebrows. “He did?”

“Profusely.” Ignis nodded. “I think you should at least find out what he has to say, or what message he wanted to send with this.”

Prompto swallowed hard, then nodded. “Y-yeah. Guess you’re right. It can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Correct.” Ignis smiled wryly. “It’ll be a safe situation to truly test the waters with him.”

“Yeah.” Prompto stepped off of the counter. “Um, thank you.”

“I should thank you.” Ignis stood with a sigh. “After all, you did come at my behest.”

Prompto shook his head, smiling. “I need a push to do the things I want to do sometimes.” He approached Ignis. “I appreciate you. And Noct does, too, like, more than you can know.”

Ignis’ smile shifted, and his gaze turned sideways - was he feeling shy? “He’s a sweet boy. I know he spoke with Gladio personally after your last encounter, and I’m certain he encouraged Gladio to reach out to you too. I was not privy to all of the conversation, but it was refreshing to Noctis so fired up about, really, anything. You bring that out in him.” Ignis clapped a hand on Prompto’s shoulder and held his eyes. “Thank you, again, for that.” 

Ignis escorted Prompto to the door, leaving him with his bicycle and a renewed strength, and one step closer to opening the door to Gladio again.

* * *

The next morning saw Prompto finishing his cycle on the weight machines right about the time the dynamic lifting class was finishing. Prompto was just mopping his brow after a long round of crunches on the ab machine when he heard the studio doors open and a few of the other regulars saying their farewells to Gladio, and was surprised at a pinch to his shoulder. He saw Cindy standing behind the machine’s apparatus, and she gave a cheeky wave.

“Still out here workin’ on your own, huh?” 

“I got a lot of work to do!” Prompto laughed, but he finished wiping the sweat off and looked her in the face. “How was class? Still fine without me, right?”

“Well, sure! Still a damn good workout!” Cindy tossed her damp hair back over her shoulder, then glanced back to the studio. Prompto could see Gladio on the dais in the front of the studio, wiping down his weights and putting them back on the rack. “Only, gotta say, he’s actin’ a little off.”

“Off?” Prompto’s brow knit. “Is he sick?”

“Oh, no. Only, I saw him look back and spot you out here on your lonesome, and his voice dropped ten decibels and half an octave.” Cindy clicked his tongue, then whispered, “He’s pinin’ for ya, sug.” She circled to the front of the machine. “He’s all upset that you ain’t comin’ no more. He asked me about you.”

Prompto lowered his eyes. “Like, about why I freaked out?”

“He asked if you were okay. He was worried.” She put her hands on her knees and leaned down into his face. “What happened, darlin’?”

Prompto sighed and tipped his head back. “He opened up some old wounds.”

Cindy stuck her lower lip out as she thought, humming, before saying, “I think he knows that. He knows he hurt ya, anyway. I think he hates it, too. You gotta talk to him, darlin’, if I gotta see him goin’ all gooey-eyed lookin’ for ya one more time, I’ll have to eat my damn sneakers.” She pinched his cheek. “Think it over, darlin’.”

With that, she bounded away. Prompto stood, and saw Gladio standing at the windows that divided the studio from the main gym floor. He winced and turned his eyes to the floor, unable to bear his face just yet. 

Even so, he was another step closer. 

* * *

Mondays were Meatless Mondays and game night for Prompto and Cor. Prompto would make tofu curry or another vegetarian main, and they would play table games after dinner. Prompto had always loved video games, but Cor didn’t understand them, and Prompto had never had anyone to play games with before. Cor taught him backgammon, checkers, chess, card games, and Prompto taught Cor how to play some of his favorites. Cor wasn’t getting  _ good _ at Justice Monsters V, but he’d definitely found a groove, and Prompto really loved playing checkers with Cor, even if he was terrible at it. 

Tonight, it was Chinese Checkers. After clearing the dinner dishes, Cor got the board and marbles down, and Prompto brewed each of them a fresh cup of tea. Prompto took yellow, blue, and black, and Cor played red, white, and green. They were setting up the marbles, and Prompto dared glanced across the table a few times, then broached the subject weighing heaviest on his heart. “Hey. So. There’s this guy at my gym.”

“Give me his name and a brief description and forget we had this conversation.” 

Prompto sputtered at Cor’s deadpan tone. “Wh-what?! No!! I - not like that! Like. There’s this guy at my gym, and he’s  _ cute. _ ” 

“Oh.” Cor paused, lifting his focus from the checkerboard to Prompto’s face. “Name and a brief description.”

“Uncle,” Prompto moaned, and pinched his brow. “Please don’t kill him yet.”

“Fine, fine.” Cor cracked a smile. “But you let me know if the guy needs a fist to the face.”

“It’s… it’s complicated.” Prompto dropped his elbow to the table and put his chin in his hand. “I’m into him. And I think he’s into me, for some reason.”

“Do you want me to list the reasons? You’re not my type, but I can see your appeal, subjectively.” Cor laced his fingers on the table, holding Prompto’s gaze. “You’re a good kid.”

“I know. I’m just - ugh, never mind.” Prompto ran his fingers back through his hair. “But, like, he’s really cute. And handsome. And he’s got muscles that could crush a barrel, and he’s funny and encouraging, just, like the biggest teddy bear ever. But I can’t even work up the nerve to talk to him right now.”

“Intimidating, is it?” Cor hummed knowingly, but Prompto shook his head again.

“No, just, I got to know him while he was helping my friend Noct with physical therapy, and, like, when he’s doing that, he just goes grizzly. The teeth and claws come out. It’s scary, honestly. It… it does stuff to my brain.”

Cor’s knuckles went white. “Did he say something to you that hurt you?”

“No. It wasn’t, like, aimed at me. He was screaming at Noct, but it reminded me of… old stuff.” Prompto bowed his head. Cor grunted softly.

“Old stuff, huh. Stuff you’ve been ignoring, I’m guessing.” Prompto winced, and Cor reached out and tweaked his ear. “Ignoring problems is the opposite of solving them. You’ve gotta be more proactive.” Prompto rubbed his ear as Cor sat back. “See, I find that most people use different tools to face certain situations. Maybe he needs to be more aggressive in his role as a therapist in order to get the results he wants. Maybe he knows it’s safe to be softer with you. After all, I don’t talk to my men like this.” He cocked his head, still studying Prompto’s face. “I know you’ve got some stuff behind you. You didn’t come from a good place, and it makes it harder for you to handle some situations. I know we’ve talked about maybe getting you into therapy-”

Prompto shook his head. Not again. No more social workers telling him why he was the problem. He already knew.

“I know, kid, I know, that was a bad experience for you too.” Cor sighed. “But you need to work on solving this old stuff you’re still carrying around somehow. You can’t avoid it forever, because sometimes it just runs right up to you. If the guy is, most of the time, good, and you know that nobody can be perfect all the time, you have to decide if you can manage the less-than-perfect parts of him.”

Prompto swallowed, then nodded. “I guess I can at least talk to him.” 

It wasn’t like accepting the private training session meant Prompto was throwing himself into Gladio’s life. After all, he wasn’t completely sure Gladio even wanted to know him like Prompto would love to know Gladio. Maybe Gladio just didn’t like hurting feelings without a good reason, like any decent person might. Maybe Gladio just wanted a chance to apologize. 

For his part, Cor smiled. “You should talk to him.”

“Mind if I make a quick phone call?” Prompto took his cellphone out and stood, as Cor nodded.

“Go ahead, kid, I’ll finish getting the board set up.” He waved a little, and Prompto stepped from the kitchen into the hallway. 

The gym was open until ten at night, and fortunately, the reception desk was still open to schedule personal training appointments. Prompto set an appointment for training the next night at seven - after work, after dinner. Not his usual exercise time, but he didn’t want to have to worry about going to work or having to face Cor immediately after. If Gladio did send him into a panic again, he could deal with it alone, like he wanted to. 

Then, he rejoined Cor, all smiles. “Alright, so, tell me again how we do this.”

Cor returned Prompto’s smile and picked up his first marble. “Let’s start this from the top.”

* * *

The next night, Prompto got home from work, ate a light salad, then changed into his shorts and a tank and jogged to the gym with his duffel like he usually did in the morning. He found Gladio waiting for him at the counter, holding a clipboard and wearing a towel around his shoulders. He grinned broadly when Prompto came in. “Hey! Glad you made it! Do you always run here?”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto, still out of breath, grinned back at him. Gladio clicked his tongue. 

“Well, good on you for getting your cardio! Just, make sure that when you pre-tire your muscles, you’re maintaining your form. We’ll check that out when we go over some lifts, alright?” He scooped up the board. “Come with me to a cubicle, let’s talk about your fitness goals.”

Gladio had him stand next to a measuring tape on the wall, then stood him on the scale. Prompto swallowed thickly as Gladio noted the number down. Then, Gladio busted out what looked like a vise from his high school workshop. “Right arm, if you don’t mind.” Prompto extended his arm and let Gladio pinch the vise down around it. Then, he measured Prompto’s chest, hips, waist, and around one thigh, and Prompto saw him doing a few quick calculations on the margin of the page. “So,” he asked, “what are you looking to do?”

“I just want to get to a healthy weight.” Prompto pinched the extra flab on his arm, brow knitting up. “My BMI is, what, like, 28? 29?”

“BMI isn’t exactly the most reliable measure of ‘health.’” Gladio settled at a laptop and pulled up a screen. “Do you have active health problems that you attribute to your weight? Chronic high blood pressure, diabetes, arthritis, joint aches and pains?”

“I have some joint pain, but only really after working out.” Prompto sucked on his lower lip, and Gladio nodded without looking up from typing.

“Didn’t think so. You actually have a pretty good lean-to-fat ratio. I won’t lie and say you can’t improve it, but you’ve got really good muscle.” He did glance up, just long enough to wink. “I can tell you’ve been doing pretty good at building yourself up.” He continued typing. “The thing about body fat is that it’s really hard to get off. Weight loss for its own sake can be kind of a trap, mentally.”

“Yeah,” Prompto mumbled, “I guess. I just - I’ve never been at a healthy weight, for as long as I can remember.”

“Again, ‘healthy weight’ is relative. There are a lot of factors beyond your control, like family history, metabolism, and besides all that, bodies just tend to accumulate fat. What’s important is how you feel in your own skin. If you can get your weight down, great.” Gladio turned to Prompto with a neutral shrug. “But actual fitness means being comfortable doing the things you want and need to do with your body.”

Prompto scrunched his nose. “I guess it’d be nice to carry around less weight so I sweat less in the summer or whenever I do anything vigorous for more than two minutes. Have you ever broken out in a sweat brushing your teeth?”

Gladio chuckled. “Can’t say I have. Well, I can put down that you want to move towards a healthy BMI, if you’d like; this is about what you want, after all. However, I think a more attainable, reasonable goal is to get your lean-fat ratio down. You’re technically in the average healthy range there, but you could definitely be better. A few diet corrections and a few tweaks to your routine could be all you need.” 

Prompto felt a little relief. “Okay, yeah. Put me down for average.” 

After that, Gladio led him through a free-weights routine, demonstrating each move and thoroughly holding each position, then guiding Prompto through. He would gently touch along Prompto’s arms, legs, and back to correct his form. “You’ve got a good grasp on the basics,” Gladio told him as he adjusted the position of his wrist through a bicep curl. “However, ideal form will actually help a whole lot with building more muscle better. Just remember, it’s going to be a little uncomfortable.” Gladio took up a weight and went through the motion alongside Prompto, explaining, “You’re tearing the muscle fibers when you work them, especially when you work them to exhaustion. However, that gives them a chance to heal and thicken up while healing.”

It made so much sense. Gladio was so patient, and he explained everything. Prompto hadn’t realized just how intelligent he was. It was actually really, really nice. Gladio’s serious side, minus the rage. 

After a complete body workout that left Prompto sweating, tired, but sore in a good way, Gladio led him through a short yoga routine. As they held positions, Gladio kept talking right through child’s pose. “Have you discussed your diet with a nutritionist?”

“Uh.” Prompto blushed, embarrassed. “No. I’ve mostly been, like, reading articles? And following weight loss advice. Like, I’m not doing anything weird like fad diets or keto or whatever.”

Gladio snorted, and extended his arms further in front of him. Prompto stretched out to match. “I didn’t think so, you look too smart to be taken in by shysters like that.”

“Uh.” Prompto decided not to admit that the fad diets were either too finicky for him to keep up with or too expensive to start. “Yeah.”

“See, a healthy diet is attainable with a little good knowledge, not by cutting out food groups or buying expensive metabolism measuring equipment. Cross your right arm under your left.” Gladio looped one arm across his chest and under the other, and Prompto squinted at his pose, then followed suit. “See, a good nutritionist can recommend a general guideline for a daily diet. You know, how many servings of grains you should eat, how many grams of protein, recommended servings of fruits and vegetables, that sort of stuff. It’s going to involve portion control, you might need to cut back on a few things and watch certain things, but you might find that a few small changes will make a huge difference.”

Prompto smiled, and switched which arm was across his chest, which let him look at Gladio again. “Alright. Uh, you recommend anyone?”

Gladio chuckled softly. “I can ask at the desk, but you could also ask your primary care physician. They might have a partner they work with or refer to, someone they trust.”

“I can ask,” Prompto agreed, as Gladio stood and offered Prompto a hand.

“That’s the best you can do.” He helped Prompto to his feet, but quickly let go.

Prompto smiled, but he felt the contented feeling fade too fast. Gladio was really good at his job. Professional. Knowledgeable. Attentive. Detached. 

Gladio led him to the cubicle again and showed him where the clipboard was. “I recommend we check in once a month or so. Use the clipboard to track your exercise, and don’t worry too much about weighing yourself in between. Getting on that scale too much can be really discouraging, especially since muscle weighs more than fat.” He put the file with the A’s in a large table, then returned to Prompto with a smile. “I hope you keep coming to the dynamic weights class. It’s not as personalized, but it’s still a good workout. However, I want you to try to do the routine I recommended three days a week.” He faced him and put his hands on his hips. “Being honest with your goals and yourself is the best way to accomplish what you’re trying to do. If you’d like, we can keep working on that. I think, if you put in all the work, you’ll get there.” He winked. “You got this, alright?” He put his fist out, and Prompto smiled and bumped his own knuckles against Gladio’s.

And then, Gladio withdrew, drawing his hand back, his eye contact shifting focus. As if his body language was saying, “I’m done with you.” Prompto took it as his cue to walk away.

Gladio was probably satisfied that Prompto wasn’t completely spooked, but maybe he just missed having Prompto in class or wanted Prompto as a client. Maybe he just felt guilty. Prompto hoped his guilt was assuaged. He just wished it didn’t feel like an ending.

Prompto went to the changing room to shower and change before his walk home. This late at night, he wasn’t worried about there being as many people in the locker room to leer at him, so he didn’t feel nearly as nervous about stripping down. His muscles were good and tired now, and with the sun down he wouldn’t sweat nearly as much (he hoped). He washed himself off under the spray, and though he glanced sideways at the scale when he stepped out, he decided against it. After all, Gladio had  _ just _ weighed him, and though he’d sweated a bunch, he’d also drank a bunch of water during, so stepping on and seeing his weight go up would be lying to himself in the worst way. He shuffled over to the bench nearest his locker to finish drying off and grab his duffel out to get his clothes, when Gladio came in, whistling contently. Prompto flinched and bolted for one of the curtained stalls to hide.

“Hey-” Whatever Gladio was saying, he stopped the moment Prompto threw the curtain shut, and Prompto’s heart raced for a second. However, when Gladio didn’t say anything else, Prompto tugged his day clothes on. When he stepped out, Gladio was sitting on the bench near his open locker, brow knit up. “Hey, uh, you don’t have to hide from me. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen anything you might have goin’ on before.” He grinned sheepishly, as Prompto’s heart sank to the floor. 

He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice, but at least he kept it quiet: “Easy for you to say.” He couldn’t make eye contact, turning away as he stuffed his sweaty gym clothes into his duffel. Gladio let out a long sigh.

“Not as much as you’d think.” Then, he repositioned himself on the bench so he was looking at Prompto. “Hey, look, tell me if I’m wrong, but I think we both know there’s more here-” He motioned between the two of them with two fingers- “than either of us is really talking about. And if I’m wrong, that’s fine and I’m sorry for assuming.” Prompto looked up, frowning - Gladio actually thought  _ he _ had assumed something wrong? When he caught Gladio’s eyes this time, he saw worry there. Gladio’s cool confidence was gone. Prompto had definitely missed something here. “Am I wrong? It’s cool if I am. I thought we had some chemistry, and I get that you’re guarded so I’m trying to take it slow. And when I’m working, I gotta try to keep it cool.” He smiled just a little. “But I want there to be more here, okay? I just.” He broke off, struggling, then said, “If that is where this is going, we need to be able to be upfront with each other.” He looked up at Prompto, those big, teddy-bear eyes gazing into his face. “Talk to me. I want you to tell me, or show me, everything.” He put his hand on his chest. “Show yourself. I don’t want you to hide everything from me.”

From that last step Prompto had made, he suddenly found himself on the precipice. He either took the leap, or backed down, never to gaze across again.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Gladio show each other what they haven't said.

**8.**

Prompto knew what it meant to toe the line between throwing oneself into something or backing down. This, he knew, was one of those moments. This was the moment he either made a difference with Gladio or, if there was any chance, threw it away forever.

 _Show yourself,_ Gladio had said. _You should talk to him,_ Cor had said. If Gladio really wanted to know, then Prompto would tell him.

Prompto sucked in a breath, then dug deep as he sat down on the bench next to him. “You’re right. I’m, um. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re cool. You’re everything I’ve always admired. And I’ve never measured up to that.”

Gladio knit his brow up as he turned and straddled the bench to face him. “It’s not like that. You can’t compare yourself to people like that, it’s not fair to either of you.”

“It’s just kind of how I am. How I’ve always been.” Prompto bit his lip, rocking nervously on the bench. “I’ve. I’ve always been.” He swallowed hard, and dragged out the thing he’d been so scared to admit. “I’ve always been compared to others, and I’ve always come up short. I was the fat kid compared to all the skinny kids, I was the foster kid who never got adopted and just got sent from home to home while all the other kids vanished around me, I was the antisocial kid who was better friends with his camera than any living person. And because I always came up short, or stood out, or wasn’t like others, I was bullied by guys who were stronger and better than me my entire life.” He looked down, his hands curling to fists on his thighs. “They always had a reason. It was always something like that. It was because I was the foster house kid, or the fat kid, or the quiet kid, or the kid who played with the kid in the wheelchair, or sometimes all of the above. Teachers, too, and my foster parents weren’t always great either. I was an easy target for teachers to take out their aggression, and I didn’t have parents to step in and defend me. One of my foster parents forced me on diets and made me exercise when I was younger. Sometimes it was just because I was there and there was nobody to defend me. There was always a reason-”

“There was never a reason,” Gladio growled suddenly, and Prompto noticed that he’d clenched his fists too. Prompto winced, and unfolded his hands.

“Tell me that ten years ago. I probably wouldn’t have believed you then, either.” He tipped his head back and shut his eyes. “Do you know how many times I heard some version of those insults? Loser, freak, fatass, not good enough, try harder, you’re not trying hard enough-” He hit the bench, wincing. Gladio had hung his head. 

“Boy, that sounds familiar.”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto sighed. “Years of that left me so scared, you know? Scared that if I tried, I’d just be beaten back, and that I would never be good enough because nothing I did was ever enough. I’ve been pushing through, a little. I have a really good friend, and a family, but I still don’t think I’m good enough, and never would be.” He halted, then glanced up at Gladio. “But you? When you’re being sweet, and laughing with me, and telling me I’m doing good? I almost forget that I’m not good enough. But when you start getting aggressive, shouting at Noct and insulting him, it puts me right back there.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “And I forget that I ever got any better.”

Gladio pressed his palm on the back of Prompto’s hand. “I never mean it, okay? Not like that.” He leaned close. “Just, for me, when someone challenges me, that’s when they get the best out of me. I know that’s not what works for everyone! But when I ask for more of someone, it’s because I know they can give me a little more. It’s because they _are_ just that good and I want to see that effort.” He took and squeezed Prompto’s hand. “I get it, you know? I wasn’t always as confident as I am now. I had to push myself because I wanted to be my best self.” He plucked at his sweat-damp tank. “Not, like, always dressed in the nicest clothes, or putting on a show, but just making an effort to be the best me I can be.” He patted his chest. “I started lifting weights because I didn’t like who I saw in the mirror. I kinda had some body image issues too, you know?” He lifted Prompto’s hand, holding his eyes, and Prompto could see he was dead serious, and maybe admitting something that he’d kept in for a while. “I didn’t want to be seen as the person I was, so I pushed myself to be stronger. I challenged myself every day: you _can_ lift the heavier weight. You _can_ run an extra half mile today.” His gaze sank down to the floor beside them. “I guess I kind of antagonized myself. Maybe it isn’t nice, but I pushed myself to be the person I wanted to be that way. I guess I can see why it wouldn’t help some folks.”

“You should be nicer to yourself, big guy.” Prompto realized Gladio hadn’t let go of his hand, and he really didn’t want him to. Gladio ran his fingers through his hair, scraping a few stray strands from his eyes.

“I know now. But I had a lot to prove.”

“If you say so.” Prompto sighed. 

“But you shouldn’t think of yourself that way.” Gladio looked him in the eye again. “You are that good. I only ask more of someone when I know they can give it. That’s why I push you in class, why I was checking your lifting form so closely tonight. I know you can do it, I just need you to show me.”

“Sometimes, it’s not there,” Prompto admitted. “Sometimes, I’m just… what you see.”

“There’s so much more to you than that.” Gladio turned Prompto’s hand over, and Prompto pulled away.

“Yeah, but I don’t always like what’s there!” Gladio’s brow knit, but then he clenched his jaw, and Prompto realized his mistake. “No - listen - it’s…” He gesticulated uselessly for a moment, then dropped his hands back to the bench. “I feel - when I look at myself, all I see - is damage. And I can never get rid of the evidence, and it’s always going to remind me that I’m not good enough.” He tugged at his collar. “I ate my feelings. Potato chips and cheap burgers never hate you, and nobody stopped me because nobody cared. I know that was my problem, I’m the reason I’m like this. And my scars run deeper than just that. I’m going to have to wear the evidence of my failure to live with what I was for the rest of my life.” He reached down and lifted his shirt up over his head. “This was what I was most scared you would see.” He gestured to the stretch marks striping his belly. “I still remember watching these happen, and hating them, and not being able to do anything to fix it.”

“Hey.” Gladio took Prompto’s hand again, and Prompto saw him putting on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Those are just from growing pains, you know?” He flexed his bicep and ran his finger along the muscle, deliberately dragging it deep. “You can see I have stretch marks under my tattoo.” He propped his leg on the bench next to Prompto and showed the thin, angry white veins running at the bottom of his knee. “It’s okay. Most people have them. A few little marks don’t make you less of a person.”

“I have others,” Prompto interrupted in a whisper. “My thighs, my arms, my everything, they’re all marked up. And honestly, some of the marks on me… I put them there.” He reached for the sweatband around his wrist, hesitated (keenly aware of Gladio’s heavy gaze), then pulled it off and turned his arm over. “I tell people I'm hiding a bad tattoo with this, but... I thought, one time, maybe if I hurt on the outside, I won’t hurt so much inside.” Gladio’s eyes went wide as he saw the scars etched on his wrist, short vertical lines up his wrist, deep and thick. Prompto bit his lip, then forced himself to spit it out: “I… I felt like an _item_ sometimes. The way I got shuffled from foster house to foster house, the way everyone looked over me, the way everyone treated me like I was just another thing to be used. A stress ball, a punching bag, a paycheck - so I put a barcode on myself. I figured-” He choked on a laugh. “Maybe I’d go on sale sometime. Maybe someone would want me then. It’s stupid, but…” He moved to put his wristband back on, but Gladio caught his arm. He moved the wristband aside, turned Prompto’s hand over, and pressed his lips against the scars. Heat swallowed Prompto’s ears, and Gladio lifted his head to hold Prompto’s eyes.

“You’re so much more than that. You are more than your scars.” He sat back and pulled his tank top off. “I have scars too, but mine were put there because I wanted them for good reasons. I still know they’re there, and sometimes I get self-conscious of them, but I know I wouldn’t be who I am if I didn’t get them.” He turned to the side and shifted his pectoral muscle, revealing a well-healed surgical scar. Prompto’s eyes went wide and his jaw slack, even as Gladio turned to show a matching scar on the other side.

“Y-yeah?” He managed to say after a second.

“Yeah.” Gladio nodded, and Prompto nodded back to match. He understood. Still, Gladio held Prompto’s gaze, speaking deliberately. “I had to work really hard to be the person I saw in my mind when I closed my eyes. I want to be the strong guy, the big brother, the dependable one. Sometimes, I still come up short.” He took both of Prompto’s hands in his. “I’m sorry I came up short for you.”

Prompto shook his head. “You kidding? There’s nothing short about you!” He sputtered out a laugh, hardly even expecting it, surprised when Gladio laughed too. 

“My temper is.” 

“Well, you got me there.” Prompto stuck his tongue out at Gladio, and Gladio tweaked his nose, smiling warmly, eyes aglow. 

“And I’m sorry about that, too. I’m still working on becoming the person I want to be. Just, my heart, not my body.”

“Isn’t everyone, I guess?” Prompto took Gladio’s hand this time and scooted in closer, their knees touching now. “I’m sorry I haven’t done more to try to understand you until now. I just put you on a pedestal and thought that if you said it, it was true. I… I just…” He closed his eyes for a moment as he searched for the right words. “I get so wrapped up in my own stupid head, like I’m trapped in my own reflection. It’s all so much better when I can step past that and look out at everything else.” 

Gladio bowed his head to touch Prompto’s forehead. “I wish you saw in your reflection what I saw there. You don’t need to change anything to impress me. You’ve got the cutest smile, the cutest damn laugh. I’ve wanted to see more of it since the day I met you.” 

Prompto couldn’t help it. He scooted a little closer to Gladio and slung his arms over his shoulders, hugging tight to him. Gladio put his arms around his waist, then, suddenly, laid back on the bench, taking Prompto with him. Prompto yelped as Gladio held him close, inadvertently straddling Gladio’s hips, chest to chest, nose to nose and eye to eye. 

Prompto knew he had to take the leap.

“You think I smile nice?” He grinned shyly, then leaned down to Gladio’s mouth. “I can do other neat stuff with my mouth, too.” He kissed Gladio, shy and chaste at first, but when Gladio returned his kiss, he took a few liberties and claimed a few deeper kisses.

Alone together, stripped down and revealed, they lost a few minutes in each other, forgetting the rest of the world except for what was between them. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/50527836048/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by Scarlett. Thank you friend <3


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's taken the steps he needed to in order to understand Gladio, but time is marching forward and Noctis is ready to take some steps too...

**9.**

Prompto didn’t want to rush whatever was forming between him and Gladio. He wanted to take it slow. He’d had more futile crushes than he could count, and while he and Noctis had tried kissing a few times (just to see what it was like), they’d both decided it was kind of weird and they were happier as friends. However, when Prompto kissed Gladio, he saw sparks in his eyes and loved it. He couldn’t mess this up. Besides, after exposing some of his deepest, darkest secrets, he knew they could go that deep, but he didn’t want to stay that deep when their whatever-it-was was so new. He’d taken the dive, it was time to wade to the shore and really get used to the water. 

Prompto returned to Gladio’s morning weight sessions. Gladio was always happy to see him and made a point of talking to him after sessions - usually just small talk, asking what he was doing at work that day, asking what he thought of the music - “Seriously,” Prompto found himself saying so often, “You gotta get some more rock in there!”

“I don’t choose the tracks they make the workouts to,” Gladio chuckled, “but I’ll see what they have in the archives.” 

“Holding you to that, big guy!” Prompto punched his shoulder, and Gladio just laughed with him.

Prompto did ask Gladio for another personal training session, and Gladio worked him hard. This time, Prompto picked up on his cool persona that he took on when he was training - there was something different about him, but Prompto could see that he was still the same big friendly bear he was most of the time. In the locker room, he was much more companionable while they were changing: “I gotta be someone else when I’m working, especially one-on-one sessions. I can’t let my feelings get in the way of what I’m doing, you know? It’s like when you get sent to an event to take photos of people and you really like one of those people, but you still gotta take pictures of everyone.”

“I gotcha, dude!” Prompto chuckled as he took his shirt off. “It’s like, work-Gladio and fun-Gladio have to stay kind of separate, right?”

“Exactly. Just remember, fun-Gladio’s cheering you on the whole time.” He nudged Prompto’s arm with his elbow, and Prompto nudged him right back. 

It was good. It was simple, but it was good. 

However, the world kept turning around Prompto. 

After a full-office video conference call a few weeks after his little breakthrough with Gladio, Prompto happened to see Nyx behind Ms. Lunafreya’s camera, and he couldn’t help himself: “Ooh, Miss Lunafreya! Please tell Nyx Prompto says hi!” 

_“Oh? Would you like to speak to Nyx?”_ Lunafreya smiled sweetly - she looked more tired than usual, but the gummy mouthed baby sucking on Nyx’s shoulder was definitely the reason for that, and Nyx actually looked up.

 _“Oh, Prompto!”_ Nyx approached the camera. _“Looking good, man!”_

“Thanks!” Prompto was surprised by the little touch of heat in his cheeks at that, and he grinned and leaned his elbows onto his desk. “Hi, baby Selene.”

Selene, her fair fluff sticking up and her mouth still happily engaged with her daddy’s bicep, let out a little squeak, and Lunafreya giggled. _“I must say, I do miss my duties in the office, but I’ve very much appreciated the time we’ve had to get to know her.”_

 _“Yeah, I know.”_ Nyx turned and beamed at Lunafreya. _“As much as I’m looking forward to going back to work, I’m not looking forward to spending less time with her.”_

“Are you coming back soon, Nyx?” Prompto raised his eyebrows, and Nyx nodded.

_“My parental leave is almost up. Luna’s got a few months more, and I’m trying to convince her to split her time between the home office and the office-”_

_“I’ll be setting up a nursery in my office, don’t you worry.”_ Lunafreya tapped Nyx’s nose, and he scrunched his face at her.

 _“We’ll keep talking about that, Mrs. Stubborn Workaholic. But yeah, I’ll be back at the gym in a few weeks. I can tell you’ve been keeping up with your routine, but don’t expect me to go easy on you!”_ Nyx pumped his bicep, and Selene complained loudly that her personal carriage was moving around quite so much. _“Oops, gotta take this.”_ He hurried away, bouncing Selene in his arms, as Lunafreya giggled.

 _“We’ll see you again soon, Prompto. Wonderful to see and speak with you, but please excuse me.”_ Her camera turned off, and Prompto disconnected too, then spun around in his computer chair and bit his lip.

If Nyx came back, what did that mean for Gladio? Would he not be teaching the morning class anymore? Would Gladio just be a personal trainer and physical therapist again, or would he go to a different gym? 

As much as Prompto missed Nyx, he really didn’t want to lose Gladio.

At the same time, Prompto knew Noctis had been continuing his therapy with Gladio. Every time he visited Noctis, he noticed Noctis doing something he hadn’t been able to do before. He could sit up without help, he could actually get up from his bed to his walker without help, get into and out of chairs. When Ignis made them dinner, Noctis volunteered to help with the dishes, standing at the sink while leaning on his walker with his elbows. (Prompto dried.) He shouldn’t have been nearly as surprised when he got a text from Noctis:

 _“Big day tomorrow. Come to therapy with me.”_

Prompto frowned. Prompto knew Noctis had been continuing his therapy, with Ignis attending his sessions, but he hadn’t been asked back and he’d been too anxious to ask about it. It was a little odd that Noctis was asking, and Prompto wanted to consider his options. Before he could send a return text, his phone rang. Gladio’s name appeared on screen, and Prompto scrambled. The two of them had exchanged numbers, but Prompto hadn’t dared text Gladio yet, and here Gladio was going right to making a phone call? 

He picked it up right before it could go to the voicemail. “Hello, you got Prompto!”

 _“Hey, it’s me.”_ Gladio’s gruff but warm tones were unmistakable. _“You got a second?”_

“I might even have two! What’s up, big guy?”

 _“Not much. I actually am calling about Noctis.”_ Gladio paused, fraught. _“Uh. So he’s been making really good progress. Like, really good. So, we’re trying something new in therapy tomorrow, and I wanted to ask you to be there. I want him to have as much support as he can get for tomorrow’s session. You, especially.”_ He paused, and Prompto could imagine him gathering himself. _“I really want you there for this.”_

Prompto felt another buzz against his ear, and saw another text from Noctis: _“I won’t be able to do this without you and Iggy there. Plz.”_

He put the receiver back to his mouth. “Of course! No sweat! I’ll be there!”

_“Great. See you tomorrow at four?”_

“See you!” Prompto hung up, smiling. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, and the moment he stopped to think about it he realized how nervous he was to be facing Gladio in this situation again. Still, when he texted Noctis to confirm he was going, Noctis replied with a smiley-face emoji, and that sealed the deal. 

Noctis’ happiness was the most important thing, and Prompto was determined to do whatever he needed to do to achieve it.

* * *

Prompto arrived at the door to the physical therapy office and found Noctis waiting there, leaning on his walker and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Ignis was waiting in one of the chairs, as well as someone Prompto had never guessed might show up in his gym - Noctis’ _dad._ Regis Caelum himself, still in a suit and tie, salt-and-pepper beard impeccable, with his hands folded on the knee of his pinstriped slacks. Prompto could see a slight bulge under the wool - Noctis had mentioned that his dad had a knee injury from the same accident that had first put Noctis in the wheelchair that had never healed properly, and he wore a brace. Prompto had spoken to Regis once or twice - he technically owned the newspaper, though he was hands-off with it, so he showed up to the holiday parties. Regis also knew Prompto as Noctis’ friend, and he smiled broadly at him when he entered.

“Good to see you, Mr. Argentum. You’re looking well.”

“Uhm, h-hi Mr. Caelum!” Prompto sputtered for a moment, then grinned back at him.

Noctis rolled his eyes. “You could just call him Dad. I do.”

“Noctis,” Regis said with a gentle rebuke implied in his tones, but he smiled at Prompto. “Regis is quite fine, though.”

“S-sure, Regis.” It felt so foreign, but Ignis gave Prompto a reassuring nod, and Prompto joined their huddle. “Have you been helping Noct with his therapy too?”

Something passed through Regis’ face, like the shadow of a bird passing overhead briefly dimming the light in his eyes, and Noctis turned his head away. “I’ve been doing what I can to support him, but unfortunately, I’m more busy than I’d like to be. However, I felt my presence was vitally necessary today, so I moved some meetings around to clear some room.”

Noctis scowled, and Prompto toed the line on the conversation. Regis’ relationship with Noctis was a touchy subject, one Prompto never really dared breach. Whenever they came close to the subject, Noctis got tense. “I’m glad you made it, then,” Prompto said, hoping to quell any hard feelings. Regis, diplomatic as ever, seemed to understand and chuckled.

“Well, usually one only ever sees his son take his first steps once. I’m very excited to see him do it a second time.”

“Dad,” Noctis moaned under his breath, as Prompto gasped.

“You’re gonna do it? You’re gonna walk again?”

Noctis glanced back at Prompto and nodded. “Y-yeah. I’m gonna try walking unaided today.”

Prompto squealed and bounced on his heels. “That’s awesome, dude! That’s gonna be great! Okay! We got this!”

That worked a smile back onto Noctis’ face, just in time for Gladio to come out of the therapy room. Prompto saw a flash of joy in Gladio’s eyes when he spotted him, but Prompto likewise saw him mute his expression to a mild, neutral smile. “Noctis, Mr. Regis, Ignis, Prompto? I’m ready for you.” He moved to the side to make space in the hallway, and as Noctis pushed forward on his walker, Gladio patted him on the back. “Hey, glad to see you working on it.”

“Need to build my leg strength,” he murmured. “Iggy has my chair if I really need it, but I want to be able to walk out of here.”

“That’s good, Noct,” Gladio told him as he walked him back. “Just remember, you might be able to walk some today, but we’re gonna work on how long you can walk a little at a time.”

“I know. But I’m doing it today.”

Despite his professional exterior, Prompto could see pride burning in Gladio’s cheeks. “I believe you.”

Gladio guided Noctis through the warm-up routine they had done last time. Prompto noticed that Noctis was bending a lot more easily, a lot further, and Gladio didn’t have to force him nearly as much. When they went through the original routine, Noctis still had to strain just a little, but it wasn’t nearly as hard for him as before. Prompto could tell Noctis had been fighting as hard as he could to regain his strength. 

Maybe Gladio’s challenge had been enough to push him through. 

Gladio walked Noctis over to the balance bars to start, set up at the far end of the studio. Then, he beckoned Regis, Ignis, and Prompto to join them.

“Mr. Regis, I want you to stand in front of him, here. Ignis, on the right, Prompto, on the left.” Gladio pointed to either side of the balance bars, and Ignis and Prompto circled around as Regis stood in front of Noctis. 

“You got this, Noct,” Prompto whispered, as Regis took one of Noctis’ hands with a warm, kind smile. 

“We’re all here for you, son.”

Noctis sucked on his lower lip for a second, then nodded sharply.

Gladio stepped back, then instructed. “Regis, I want you to take his hands and guide him to the bars. Noct, go ahead and use the bars to support yourself as you get started.”

Regis nodded, and closed both of his hands around Noctis’. Noctis flushed, color in his cheeks, and looked away from Regis. “Dad-”

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.” There was so much warmth and love there that Prompto felt a little bad watching, like he was intruding just by being there. As strained as their relationship was, there was still love between father and son. Then, Noctis looked to him, then Ignis, and took a bracing breath. 

“Let’s do this,” he declared, and Regis pulled Noctis’ walker out of the way and guided Noctis’ hands to the balance bars.

Noctis gripped the bars as he took the first few steps, with Ignis and Prompto walking alongside him and Regis walking backwards, facing Noctis with his hands out. “You’re doing it,” Regis told him, smiling as Noctis took another step, then another, then another. “That’s it, you’re walking!”

Noctis was breathing roughly, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other until he reached the end of the balance bars. Regis stepped past them, hands out and open, and Noctis stared him in the face, nodded, and released the bars and took a wobbly step, completely unsupported.

“That’s it,” Ignis said suddenly, and Prompto saw him smiling broadly. “That’s just the way, Noct!”

“Good,” Gladio said from where he stood on the wall. “That’s really good! You ready for the big one?”

“Yeah,” Noctis ground out, and Prompto could see Noctis’ legs quaking just a little, but he grounded his heels and kept his back straight, posture sharp. “What am I doing?”

“Mr. Regis.” Gladio strode across the room and tapped the mirror on the opposite side of the studio from where Noctis stood. “I want you to face Noctis and wait right here.” Prompto’s eyes went wide - that was almost twenty-five feet. He could do that in ten strides, maybe. Noctis was still barely on number one. However, Noctis swallowed, clenched his fist, and nodded.

“You want me to walk to my dad?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.” Gladio stood at the midpoint between Noctis and Regis. “Ignis, Prompto, walk alongside him. You can take his hand but don’t let him lean on you.”

“It’s okay,” Noctis said softly. “Just stand by me, okay?” 

With that, Noctis rolled his shoulders back and took a step towards his father.

Every step was a challenge. Noctis was still keenly aware of his balance, consciously remembering to keep his spine upright, to keep his arms at his side. He had to stop between steps and would grab Ignis or Prompto’s hands, whichever side was off-balance, to recover himself. However, he always let go before he lifted his foot again. Every step was a miracle, and Prompto hoped Noctis could see the utter faith Ignis had in him, and Prompto’s own belief that if Noctis thought he could do this, he could.

“That’s it, Noct,” Gladio said as Noctis walked past him, and Prompto gazed at him, only to see and feel the pride in his expression. Noctis caught Gladio’s eye, nodded, and released Ignis’ hand to take the next step.

It was twenty steps for Noctis. Each one was uneven, and he had to fight to accomplish each one. However, he took them, difficult as they were, and even shook off Prompto and Ignis’ hands to take the last three steps to his father on his own. Regis caught him by the hands, and Noctis let out a reedy, eager laugh.

“I did it. I did it!”

“That’s it, Noct, you did!” Regis shook both of his hands, and Noctis hugged him tight. “That’s my boy!”

“Yes! That’s great!” Gladio pumped a fist, then swaggered over to Ignis and shook his hand. “Thanks,” he said softly, then approached Noctis with his hand up. Noctis turned towards him, eyes wide, then beamed and slapped his hand to Gladio’s.

“Thank you so much,” he rasped, words thick with emotion, and Gladio winked and squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t thank me ‘til it’s over. The work ain’t done yet, but I’m so damn proud of you.” He moved out of the way and motioned for Ignis to join the huddle. “I think there’s someone else you gotta thank, too.” 

He stepped aside as Ignis started, then approached, and Prompto could see a touch of color in his cheeks. He extended his hand towards Noctis, likely to pat him on the back, but Noctis threw his arms around Ignis’ neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Ignis’ chest, as Regis laughed with surprise. 

“Is that how it is, then?” He caught Ignis’ eye with a wink, as Ignis raised his arms and returned Noctis’ embrace. “I appreciate you as well. I know Noctis wouldn’t have made it this far without your support.”

“It’s been my pleasure to provide it,” Ignis replied, smiling, and he took Noctis’ hand. “Do you feel up to taking a lap? You can hold onto my arm, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, let’s try it.” Noctis extended his other arm to his father, and the two of them each looped their arms around his and escorted him on a gentle, careful walk around the perimeter of the room. Prompto had watched, not wanting to intrude on a private family moment, but now, Gladio strode over to him. 

“I knew he’d need you. I’m really glad you were here.” He clapped Prompto on the shoulder. “Family support is really important, you know? He’d been wanting to bring you back, but he wanted you to see a victory. He said he had to make you proud, too, with how hard you’d been working to get stronger.”

Prompto flushed and scratched the back of his head, turning his face towards the ground. “Oh, it’s no big thing, right? I mean, this-” He gestured to Noctis, turning the corner with Ignis and Regis on either side of him - “That’s something special. And he’s doing it to get better from, like, an actual health problem.”

“But he’s doing it. Most people with his condition, especially as severe as his instance was, don’t make strides like this, though if his treatment really works, maybe there’ll be more who can progress.” He watched Noctis for a moment, then returned his gaze to Prompto. “He put the work in, and I’m proud of him for that. However, you were an inspiration.” He took Prompto’s hand. “To me, too, really. That first day, when you stuck up for him? The fact that you believed in him told me that he’s someone to believe in.” 

Prompto could tell Gladio meant that, eyes alight, smile so warm. His fingers trembled, and he reached and took Gladio’s hand. “I believe in you too.” He bowed his head. “And. I. I wanna know, do you believe in me enough to maybe wanna go out with me some time?”

Gladio clasped his other hand around Prompto’s. “Oh, hell yeah.” He threw his arms around Prompto into a big bear hug, and Prompto hugged him around the waist, his cheek to Gladio’s chest. 

It was a breakthrough for sure, and not just for Noctis. The first steps had been taken towards the future.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Prompto take the leap, and away they go!

**10:**

Gladio was a romantic. He had been waiting for Prompto outside of the office for their first date with an armful of sunny daffodils. Prompto heard a few of his coworkers chuckling behind him as Gladio strode towards him, the arm that wasn’t full of flowers open.

“Hey, handsome.” He winked and pulled Prompto into a one-armed hug - he was _so_ warm, it kind of dazzled. “These are for you.” He offered Prompto the flowers, and Prompto, beaming, accepted.

“Oh, man, these are so great! Wait, hang on-” He offered the flowers back to Gladio then got his camera out of his satchel. “Say cheese? For me?”

Gladio tossed his head back and laughed, then posed with one hand cocked on his hip, his chest out, and a big broad smile. Prompto took a snap, but before he could put his camera away, Gladio took his wrist.

“Now, turn that camera around.” Gladio spun Prompto around and put Prompto’s back to his chest, and put his chin on his shoulder. “I want a memory of _our_ first date.”

“Yeah?” Prompto flushed, cheeks hot, and he pointed the lens at the two of them. “Alright. Cheese!”

Gladio took him out for coffee and snacks at a cafe between Prompto’s work and his apartment. They talked for hours about whatever came up. Gladio had such a big laugh, a dry wit, and a knack for snappy repartee. He was so damn charming, and he laughed at all of Prompto’s jokes. Every time his eyes crinkled up, Prompto’s heart soared.

They had a few coffee dates, where hours seemed to just fly away before Cor was sending text messages asking where he was, and Prompto happened to mention seeing an advertisement for the next “Indescribables” movie where the stars were having a road chase (wondering aloud how they had gotten clearance to drive through a mall), and Gladio’s face lit up.

“I was looking forward to that one, too!” He wagged an eyebrow over their little shared table. “Say, would you mind sharing some popcorn with me?”

Prompto managed to nab tickets for a preview night of the movie by begging spares off of the arts and culture department of the paper and met Gladio at the door the night of the event. Gladio wore a leather jacket with a really cool eagle on the back that matched his tattoo, and bought Prompto a big container of popcorn, light butter, no salt. They sat near the middle towards the back - Gladio insisted, since he hated blocking the view for people in front of him - and they fed each other bites of popcorn through the previews. Prompto couldn’t help but notice that Gladio was super-invested in the romantic comedy about an office worker falling in love with his boss, but he didn’t say anything because he was too busy crying through the entire “sad dog” movie trailer that immediately followed. Gladio rubbed his back as the tears rolled down.

“I’ll take you to see that one, if you want,” he offered under his breath in a warm rumble. Prompto shook his head. 

“They’re all the same. Dog stuff happens, dog dies at the end.” He sniffled and rubbed his eyes. “And I cry buckets.”

Gladio gave his back another gentle rub. “I’ll dry your eyes.”

“Fine,” Prompto sniffed, and nudged Gladio’s arm. “I’ll see that office romance movie, if you like.”

“What, you like that kind of stuff?”

“No, but I’d like watching you enjoy it.” He leaned his head on Gladio’s broad shoulder, as Gladio chuckled.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Midway through the movie, Prompto realized how cold it had gotten in the theatre, and bundled his arms close to his chest to conserve warmth. Gladio glanced over, then tugged his jacket off and put it around Prompto’s shoulders. The jacket carried his warmth and a hint of his cologne, and Gladio gave it with a smile and let him wear it until they left. Good grief, Prompto could kick the part of himself that had been so nervous around Gladio.

Next, Gladio invited Prompto over for a “night in.” He had his own apartment, a little loft in a building that Prompto knew a lot of the Guard members lived in too, and made him a simple dinner of grilled chicken and vegetable skewers with some sort of peanut butter sauce. His apartment was pretty Spartan, no pictures on the wall, minimal furniture, like he was ready to pick up and leave whenever he had to, with the exception of his library, where he’d set up a huge shelf and filled it with a colorful menagerie of books. He had tons, a few that Prompto remembered from his high school and college literary history courses, but shelves of what looked like Harlequin romance novels and swords-and-sorcery, knights-and-kings fantasy serials. He had an old armchair next to the shelf and a bottle of scotch beside it, and the space looked more elegant and well-loved than the rest of the apartment put together. Gladio laughed nervously as Prompto took it in. 

“A man needs hobbies, right?” He grinned sheepishly as Prompto examined his shelves, slack-jawed. This wasn’t what he’d expected Gladio to call a hobby.

He was the kind of guy who’d prefer to have a scotch and read a book than go out looking for trouble. Just the thought of that made Prompto want to read some of his romance novels and just sit with him for a while.

Prompto actually gestured to the shelf. “So which is your favorite?”

“Favorite? Ask me to pick my favorite child, why don’t you?” Gladio laughed, a full, warm belly laugh, then perused the shelf for a long moment. “Well, if you’re making me pick, I’d say this one.” He showed Prompto all the dog-eared pages. “You can see how much I love it.”

“Can’t miss it,” Prompto chuckled, then put his hand over Gladio’s. “Wanna read it to me?”

Gladio raised an eyebrow, then shifted his armchair forward, sat down into it with a content little groan, and opened the book. Prompto hurried back to the little kitchen to grab a chair, but heard Gladio clear his throat. He glanced back, and saw Gladio patting his thigh.

“Chair holds five-hundred pounds. I get the extra-sturdy chairs, y’know?” He grinned. “C’mere, handsome.”

Prompto felt himself go from warm to hot to steaming as he realized what Gladio was asking for, but he also had no inclination to refuse. He returned to Gladio’s chair and planted himself in Gladio’s lap, and threw his arms around Gladio’s shoulders as Gladio flipped the book open. 

They were two chapters in before they lost rhythm, because out of nowhere, Prompto felt a buzzing through the chair. Gladio pulled a face, and looked to Prompto. “Mind if I check that?”

“Sure, yeah.” Prompto got up, and let Gladio take his phone out of his back pocket. He frowned at the screen, muttered an apology, then answered.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” 

Prompto faintly heard a small, chirpy voice on the other end of the line: _“Gladdy! Come home for a little while!”_

Gladdy? Prompto felt a tiny bit queasy all of a sudden, until Gladio rolled his eyes.

“I’m on a date, baby moog.”

_“Oh, great! Bring him with you!”_

“Iris-” Gladio pinched his brow, but Iris was obviously unfazed.

_“I made cupcakes and there are too many and Dad says there’s not enough room in the refrigerator to keep them all! Please come help me eat them and take some with you!”_

The line clicked off, and Gladio groaned and pressed a hand to his face, but Prompto could see him smiling. “Uh. So. I’ve been summoned.” He stood up. “Wanna come meet my baby sister?”

“I didn’t know you had a baby sister!” Prompto grinned.

Gladio shrugged, grinning through his embarrassment. “Hadn’t mentioned it yet.” He tucked a bookmark in the novel they’d been sharing. “She lives with my dad and an old family friend and his grandson out in the ‘burbs. Do you mind?”

“Not at all!” Prompto jogged towards the door and his shoes on the mat, then halted as he looked down at his own feet. “Uh. Do you mind taking me to meet them?”

“‘Course not.” Gladio was nonchalant, as if he’d totally missed Prompto’s worries. “My dad always asks if I’m seeing someone. He’ll be happy to see I met someone.” He winked at Prompto as he sidled up beside him. “He can be kind of a hardass, but he’s a good guy.”

“Oh. Alright.” Prompto swallowed, but put his shoes on and stepped outside with Gladio.

Gladio had a motorcycle and a spare helmet, and he handed Prompto a helmet and waited for him to put it on. Then, he pulled his jacket off and put it on him again. “It’ll get cold with the wind on your arms,” he told him, as Prompto smoothed the sleeves and wondered if a guy could die from too much blood to the face. 

“Thanks, _Gladdy_.” He winked at him, and Gladio laughed.

“Watch it, you’ll make Iris jealous.”

Gladio rode a few miles away from the city center, closer to Noctis’ house than to Prompto’s apartment, and stopped outside of a large, old house nestled in some trees. Prompto whistled as he stepped down off the bike, and felt a thrill as the weight of the moment hit his nerves. 

He was meeting Gladio’s family. He’d been seeing Gladio for three weeks, and he was meeting his family.

“I’m meeting your family,” he squeaked aloud, and Gladio snorted.

“Yeah, they’re gonna be super lame about it. It’s fine. Iris’ cupcakes are worth it.” He took Prompto’s hand. “It’s alright.” 

“Yeah.” Prompto swallowed, and let Gladio lead him under the pine arbors towards the front door.

The door flew open a second before Gladio knocked, and a tiny girl with short auburn hair stood in the opening, already opening her arms. “Gladdy!”

Gladio laughed and caught her with one arm, not releasing Prompto’s hand. “Hey, baby moog.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she squealed. 

“Don’t call me that in front of your boyfriend!” Then, she spun on Prompto. Prompto stiffened in place as Iris sized him up, but she beamed and let go of Gladio to grab Prompto’s open hand. “It’s really nice to meet you! Come in!” 

She yanked him by the arm, and Gladio walked him into the house at his side, snickering under his breath. They took off their shoes, and Iris marched them to the kitchen, where an older man who definitely looked like someone’s grandpa was finishing frosting cupcakes as a boy of about ten watched, and a man with hollow cheeks, closely shaved hair, and muscles as big as Gladio’s was seated at the kitchen table with a newspaper. The man with muscles that rivaled Gladio’s looked up from his paper as they entered, and smiled wryly. 

“Iris, you didn’t offer to hang up the young man’s jacket?”

“Oh!” Iris squeaked, and spun around to Prompto again. “May I take your-” She came up short, then grinned deviously. “May I take _Gladdy’s_ jacket?”

That got the muscular man’s attention, and Prompto slowly removed the jacket and folded it over as Iris, beaming, held her hands out. “Um, where should I-”

“I’ll put it in the hall closet, don’t worry, you’re a guest!” She swiped the jacket and bounded away, as the muscular man advanced on Prompto, then held a hand out.

“Clarus Amicitia. Gladiolus’ father.” 

“Prompto Argentum.” Prompto recognized the mien of a military man in an instant, and gave a firm handshake the way Cor had taught him to do. Clarus nodded sharply in response, then smirked. 

“And how long has Gladio been keeping you secret from us?”

“Dad,” Gladio grumbled, pushing his shoulder. “I wasn’t keeping you _secret_ , Prompto, I just hadn’t had a chance to introduce you all.” 

“Fine, go make introductions.” Clarus pushed Gladio right back with a snort. “I’ll go put on some coffee.”

Gladio huffed, and Prompto couldn't help but see the resemblance. Like father, like son. “So, that’s my dad and sister.” He took Prompto’s hand and motioned to the table. “And this is Jared, and his grandson, Talcott. Our families have known each other forever.”

Jared smiled warmly at Prompto, then held out a freshly frosted cupcake. “A pleasure to meet you. Here, Iris got into a baking mood, and you’ll find she’s completely irrepressible.” 

Talcott had a mouthful of cupcake already, and he mumbled what would likely have otherwise been a cheerful, enthusiastic greeting. Then, he pointed to the cupcake: “Mey’re rlly good!”

Gladio laughed and took a cupcake for himself. “Thanks, guys. Great to see you.” He mussed Talcott’s hair. “Swallow and tell me how fifth grade’s goin’, kid.” 

Gladio sat and pulled a chair around for Prompto, and Iris and Clarus joined them around the table with coffee and cupcakes (and chocolate milk for Iris and Talcott). Gladio cheerfully caught up with his family, and Prompto couldn’t help but feel warm all over at how sweet and brotherly he was with both Talcott and Iris, gently teasing and still obviously loving, and how mature he was with Jared, how he and his father clearly got along with love despite Clarus’ stern brow. It was such a nice dynamic. Prompto really kind of envied that.

All of a sudden, he was part of it: “Gladio, your boyfriend is so quiet!” Iris leaned around to where Prompto was sitting. “How about you? What do you do?”

“Oh, me?” Prompto sputtered a moment, then imitated taking a photograph with his hands. “I’m a photographer for the paper.”

“Are you, now?” Clarus raised an eyebrow, and held out the newspaper. Prompto took it and turned a few pages to the entertainment section, and pointed to a photograph he took at a festival over the previous weekend.

“Credit, P. Argentum.” 

“Holy crow!” Iris gasped. “He’s _famous!”_

“Yeah, pretty cool, right?” Gladio elbowed Prompto’s arm a few times as Prompto squirmed with embarrassment, playful and winking. “When I found out, I started checking the newspaper every day to see where he’d been. He covers a lot of local events.” 

Clarus nodded, brows raised and mouth set; Prompto couldn’t tell if he was confused or impressed. He hoped he was impressed. “I see you have an eye for color and perspective. I’ll have to look for your photographs, myself.”

“Th-thank you, sir.” Prompto folded his hands on his lap. “Um, what do you do, sir?”

Clarus smirked, and Prompto caught a flash of teeth. “Retired military. I’m presently a consultant for the Lucis Caelum foundation, particularly with regard to programs that benefit veterans in our community.”

“Oh, another military guy. Cool.” Prompto nodded. “I kinda figured. You actually remind me of my uncle, a little-”

“Hey.” Iris stuck her chin in, pouting. “Did you not want the cupcake?”

Prompto halted all at once; he hadn’t touched the cupcake he’d been given, and suddenly, everyone was staring. “Um.” He bit his lip, voice dying slowly as he spoke: “I’m kind of on a diet…”

“Aw, man.” Iris looked supremely disappointed, and Gladio nudged Prompto’s arm, much gentler this time.

“One’s okay,” he told him softly. “If you say no to every treat, you’re more likely to go overboard when you do finally give in. It’s alright.”

Prompto swallowed, but grinned. “One won’t hurt.” He took a bite. Chocolate cupcakes with almond and honey frosting. So sweet, but so tender and delicious. “Oh, wow, and this is a really good ‘one’ for my cheat day!”

Iris giggled, clearly pleased. “Just let me know when your next cheat day is. Don’t worry, Gladdy, I won’t let your guy get too skinny.”

“Iris,” Gladio chided, but kissed Prompto on the cheek. “Thanks, babe,” he whispered, and faced Clarus again. “We actually met at the gym where I work. Took us a little time to get to know each other, we’ve only been seeing each other outside of there for a few weeks.”

“I see. I certainly hope you’re not rushing things by bringing him over too soon.” Clarus laced his fingers, and Gladio snorted.

“You say ‘no’ to Iris when she’s being all demanding.”

“You never can.” Clarus sat back, smirking, as Iris spun in her chair, cheeks faintly pink.

“Daddy, I’m not that bad! I just knew Gladdy secretly wanted my cupcakes, even if he was saying no!”

“That’s not how that works.” Clarus raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t repress a smile.

Prompto still felt butterflies in his stomach despite the cupcake now taking up space. Then, Clarus faced him again. “I’ll tell you, Mr. Argentum, he’s a handful, but he’s a good boy.” 

“I know.” Prompto nodded furiously, folding his hands on his legs. “He’s actually really sweet, even though he looks tough.”

“Oh, he’s tough on the outside, but don’t believe it,” Jared pitched in with a chuckle. “I’ve known Gladio since he was very small, and he’s always been strong, but tender.”

Gladio hunched his shoulders. “Aw, come on.”

“It’s true,” Iris giggled. “He acts all big and tough but he’s a big sweetie!”

“Seriously.” Gladio planted his elbow on her head and leaned on her, and she squealed and pushed him off. “He knows me by now.” He winked at Prompto, and Prompto sat forward.

“Honestly, I kind of like how tough he is, because he doesn’t give up on stuff.” He looked from Clarus to Iris, then to Jared. “It kind of intimidated me at first, but honestly, I kind of fell in love with the way he used that tough attitude. It keeps him smiling through hard stuff, and it’s gotten him this far, you know? And I love that he’s still a softie, too.” He grinned, hoping they could see the confidence he had: “I’ll treat him really good, promise!”

“Not what I’m worried about.” Clarus crossed his arms, smirking. “You seem like a nice boy. I wouldn’t want him to break your heart.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Gladio answered quickly, and he took hold of Prompto’s hand. “I’d never hurt him.” He held Prompto’s gaze for a long moment. “That’s not how I operate, and he knows it.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed. “I don’t think he could hurt me if he wanted to.” He held Gladio’s hand in his, and caught the way the embers glowed in Gladio’s honey-gold eyes.

This was love. Prompto knew it. It showed in everything Gladio did and said to him, and Prompto loved him back with every ounce of his heart.

When they left, returning to Gladio’s bike, as Gladio helped strap the helmet onto Prompto’s head, Prompto covered Gladio’s hand with his. “You gotta meet my Uncle next.”

“Uncle, you said?” Gladio cocked his head, and Prompto shuffled his feet.

“Um, when he adopted me, he said I didn’t have to call him Dad, and I had so many foster dads and all of them made me call them Dad before they got rid of me, it didn’t feel right. So, my Uncle is the one who adopted me. He’s in the military, too. I think you guys will get along.”

“Another military guy, huh?” Gladio grinned, and took Prompto’s hands again. “When can I meet him?”

“You wanna come over Monday night?” Prompto’s toes curled in his tennis shoes. “We do meatless Mondays and game night. I can make an extra-big pot of peanut noodles.”

“Peanut noodles and game night? What are we playing?”

“It’s my turn to pick, so Smash Brothers.” Prompto squeezed Gladio’s fingers and pulled him close. “That way all three of us can play.”

“That sounds awesome. I’d love to meet your Uncle.” He led Prompto to his bike, and paused as Prompto mounted behind him. “Uh - about the Dad thing -”

“Yeah?” Prompto leaned around Gladio’s shoulder, as Gladio hesitated.

“Uh. You don’t wanna call anyone Dad anymore, right? ‘Cause, like, my dad, he really likes you, I can tell, so he might kinda like it if you-” He paused, then snorted. “It’s dumb, never mind.”

“No, tell me!” Prompto pressed his cheek to Gladio’s shoulder, and Gladio gently shrugged him back.

“Later, okay?” He chuckled a little and patted Prompto’s leg. “Hold on tight, babe.”

He took off into the night, and Prompto held tight onto his waist as they zipped back into the night. Gladio took him home and kissed him chastely on the lips to bid him good night, and Prompto watched wistfully as his tail lights vanished.

* * *

The next evening, after a day spent apart busy at work with the newsroom in a flurry and Prompto attending a speech at the Lucis Caelum foundation, Prompto went to meet up with Gladio for another personal training session. However, when Gladio met him at the front desk, there was a sadness in his eyes that Prompto hadn’t seen since he wasn’t talking to him. Prompto didn’t dare ask - he knew Gladio avoided personal stuff on the job - but instead of taking him to the gym floor, Gladio led him to one of the cubicles off to the side where they’d had their initial consultation.

“Hey, so. I’ve got some bad news.” He bit his lip, and his gaze dropped. What the hell? Gladio wasn’t like this. Worry crept into Prompto’s throat, as Gladio forced himself to meet Prompto’s eyes. “This is gonna be our last session.”

“What?!” Prompto yelped, too loud, and he ducked down in case anyone had heard and started looking. “Is it - is it ‘cause we’re seeing each other?”

“I mean, that definitely toes a line, but - no.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “No, uh. I got a call earlier. Have you heard about the situation in Galahd?”

Prompto frowned. “Honestly, only a little. I kind of avoid it, ‘cause it makes me anxious.”

“Yeah? Can’t blame you.” Gladio exhaled sharply, and forced his hands to flatten on the desk. “Yeah, there was an incident last night. The anti-alliance faction staged an attack on the Lucian consulate.”

Prompto’s stomach dropped through his knees.

“Details are still coming out, but it seems like the only casualties are on the side of the people who started it.” He drummed his fingers on the table with the kind of nervous energy Prompto didn’t expect out of Gladio. “But. The upper brass made the call to summon up a bunch of reserve troops to make a big show, put a whole bunch more men in Lucian uniform between the people hammering out the treaty and the people who don’t want the treaty to happen.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Including me.”

“You mean-”

“I’ve been given three days to close up all my affairs here and deploy. I’m taking a train to base in four days, and from there, shipping out for a six-month tour of duty.” He kept his voice stunningly neutral for that, his eyes like stone. “I… I’m turning over all my classes to Nyx, who’s coming back from parental leave, but he’s still on leave from the service so he gets to stay. I’ve had to reassign all my physical therapy patients, too. And, uh, Crowe’s tour should be up in a few weeks. I’ll leave your file for her, if you’d like-”

“Forget about me!” Prompto grabbed his hands and tugged on Gladio’s wrists, forcing his chair to swivel around. “You’re leaving.” He barely held back the ‘me,’ but Gladio seemed to hear it nonetheless and bowed his head. 

“Not by choice. And I’ll be back, on my goddamn honor.” He reached up and put his hand on the back of Prompto’s neck, pulling his face close. “I’ll write you. I’ll call you whenever I can.”

“I’ll write and call you, too,” Prompto croaked. “I guess game night’s gonna have to wait.”

“It is, but we’re gonna have so many game nights when I get back, you’re gonna have to buff my thumbprints out of the controller.” Gladio put on a creaky smile. “Will you keep me company while I pack my apartment?”

“I’ll help you carry the boxes.” Prompto couldn’t hold back a little sniffle. Gladio thumbed the tear away. 

“I love you, y’know.” 

“You, too.” Prompto shut his eyes tight and leaned into Gladio’s kiss.

Their relationship had survived as much as it had. It could survive this, too.

* * *

That same night, Cor told Prompto the same thing: “I’ve been called in again,” he groused as he glared at his dinner plate. “I leave for a few months, and it all goes to hell in a handbasket.” 

“The attack, right?” Prompto wasn’t eating. He wasn’t hungry. As Cor threw his fork down, he actively felt sick.

“Yeah.” He sneered and kicked back from the table. “Damn bastards. We were so damn close to settling things, but old scars just keep getting in the way. Why they’re blaming the people today over things that happened three centuries ago will always escape me, but it is what it is.” He rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, kid. You know I don’t want to leave.”

“But I know you’ll be back,” Prompto said quietly, frozen to his chair. “You always come back.”

“That’s right, kid.” He sighed and stood up, then got down in front of him on his knees like he had the night he’d asked Prompto if he could sign the adoption papers. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll come back to you, as soon as I can.” He shook his head. “It won’t be longer than six months.”

“When do you ship out?” Prompto had to ask, nervous about the answer for more than one reason.

“They gave me a week. I got lucky, I know some of the reserve guys got told to quit their jobs and ship out the next day.” Cor grimaced. “I’ll be busy at base for most of it, but I’ve got another week with you.”

“I understand.” Prompto got off of his chair and hugged Cor around the neck. “Thanks for telling me.”

Cor hesitated, then hugged him back. “Work things out with that boy while I’m gone, will ya?”

Prompto didn’t have the heart to tell him just how close he and Gladio had gotten. It would have to be a story for another night.

Over the next two days, Prompto helped Gladio pack his little apartment, including taking down his library. Gladio took most of the boxes to his father’s house, but Prompto offered to hold onto his books for him. 

“I’d really like that,” Gladio had said when Prompto offered. “That way, Iris won’t steal any of them.”

Clarus was resigned to Gladio’s departure - unhappy, but understanding - but Prompto was sure he heard Iris sobbing in her bedroom while they unloaded Gladio’s furniture into Clarus’ basement. He embraced Gladio tight before they parted, and Clarus faced Prompto after he released him.

“You’re part of a military family now, son. If you need anything at all, you call me.” He handed Prompto his business card with his home and mobile phone numbers. “If that means help with a bill or just someone to talk to, I’m here for it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Prompto took the card and shook his hand, but Clarus yanked him into a hard hug. Gladio watched, gaze hooded, until Clarus let go of him.

“Thanks, Dad,” Gladio murmured, and returned to their rented U-haul to take the books to Prompto’s apartment. 

Prompto stacked all of Gladio’s books, meticulously labelled and organized, against the wall of his bedroom. They smelled faintly of Gladio’s cologne. Prompto had asked Gladio to put a few of his favorites in a separate box, and Prompto put those on his desk so he could read them while Gladio was gone. It would be a reminder of him, and give him lots to write about. 

The day came. Gladio texted him early in the morning with the time on his train ticket, and Prompto rode his bike to the station and met Gladio with Jared on the platform. Jared saw Prompto and quietly excused himself with a pat on Gladio’s arm, and Gladio faced Prompto, jaw set and somber. He was in his uniform with a single duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, desert camouflage pants and tunic with a cap that covered most of his hair except for the longer strands in the back, and his eyes were dark under the brim. He smiled, but it didn’t seem real against his face.

“C’mere, babe.” He opened his arm, and Prompto threw himself against his chest.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“Gonna miss you too. More than you can imagine.” He crushed Prompto against him, as Prompto turned his cheek against his breast and wrapped his arms around his broad chest.

Prompto never wanted to let go. 

“Stay safe, okay?”

“I’ll do my damndest.” He released Prompto so he could look down into his eyes. “I won’t be gone long enough for you to miss me, either. You’re gonna be so sick of seeing letters in the mail and hearing my voice on the phone that you won’t wanna look at me when I get back.”

“No way!” Prompto laughed softly, voice crackling with emotion. “I’m still gonna miss those big strong arms.”

“Well, yeah. How about I lift an extra few pounds on my downtime, make ‘em bigger and stronger for ya?” Gladio flexed and winked, and Prompto pushed on his chest. 

“You giant dork.” 

“Yours.” Gladio bent down and kissed his forehead, then on the lips. 

Just then, Clarus arrived with Iris in the car. Iris’ eyes were red around the edges, and she ran from the parking lot to the platform to throw her arms around Gladio, dislodging Prompto. Prompto stumbled out of the way, and Gladio quietly scolded Iris into her ear.

“You can make out with him again when I’m done, but it’s my turn now,” she hissed back, and hugged him even tighter. 

Gladio said quiet farewells to Iris, his father, and Jared, until the train arrived, and a lieutenant whistled at the boarding point. Gladio grimaced, but broke away.

“That’s me.” He shook his dad’s hand, hugged Iris briefly, then faced Prompto and lifted him up in both arms. Prompto gasped - nobody had tried to hold him like this for as long as he could remember. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Prompto kissed Gladio, then held his eyes when they broke apart.

Then, Gladio set him down, rolled his shoulders back, and walked away. Prompto watched him go, heart aching, but he steeled himself. 

Gladio expected him to be strong while he was gone. Gladio was going to come back to him, and Prompto was going to be here for him. Gladio had been patient waiting for him to come around, so Prompto could be just as patient for him to return to their little corner of Lucis. He would do him one better, if he could. 

Noctis was going to keep going to therapy. He was going to keep going to the gym. He would answer every letter he got and take every call. The world would keep turning and life would keep happening, and Prompto was sure Gladio was going to come back to him.

He was going to surprise the hell out of Gladio and himself. He was going to show Gladio just what he was made of.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio returns home, and finds he has a few surprises waiting. Prompto has something to show him.

**11.**

The train arrived at the station at the exact time on Gladio’s itinerary, and he watched his little city come into view through the window. He could see the Lucis Caelum foundation’s building on the skyline, the high-rise apartments and the office buildings. He could see the parking lot and his dad’s car.

He wasn’t seeing the one thing - the one person - he really wanted to see after six months in Galahd, and that had him on edge already. 

“Calm down, Amicitia.” Marshal Leonis, Gladio’s direct superior, snorted in his seat across from Gladio. “We’ll be there soon.” 

“Sorry, sorry. Just, there’s someone I’m waiting for.” He squinted out the window as they rolled into the station. He was sure he could see Iris and his dad waiting but not Prompto. 

“Oh? Do you have a girlfriend or something?”

“Boyfriend, sir.” 

“I see.” Cor exhaled slowly. “It’s always hard, leaving loved ones behind. I have a son around your age.”

“Do you? I never knew.” Gladio couldn’t help but peek at Cor’s hand. No ring.

“Adopted. Doesn’t actually call me dad, either, but to me, he’s my son.” Cor shrugged. “He’s not involved with the military; he’s too gentle, I’d never wish it on him. But he’s gotten used to me being away and coming back. When they love you, as long as you do your part to show your love from wherever you are, they can handle it.”

“Yeah.” Gladio smirked to himself. “Man, I spent so much on fancy paper writing to him.” 

“I bet he loved it.”

“I hope he loved it.” He grinned. “He wrote back, after all. He got this cute paper with chocobos on it.”

Cor laughed sharply. “My boy loves those things, too.”

The train ground to a halt, and Gladio peered out the window again. He couldn’t see Prompto in the throngs, but there were so many people there, all waiting for their loved ones, too. There were a lot of people waiting to show their love in person. Gladio had waited six months to hold Prompto again. He could wait a few minutes more. 

The train cars let out one by one, and Gladio watched the other servicemen and women unloading and reuniting with their families, then clearing away to the parking lot to begin their happy reunion. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gladio’s car was released. Every man stood, saluted the commanding officer in charge of their discharge, and lined up with their bags. One by one, they descended the gangway and fanned out to find their families. 

Gladio rushed down, searching the crowd for a familiar head of blond hair and a face full of freckles. However, nothing jumped out at him from the throngs. Instead, a voice called his name, but not the one he expected:

“Hey, Gladio!” Noctis Lucis Caelum was standing slouched against one of the support pillars, with Ignis, wearing business casual, shirt-sleeves and slacks instead of the scrubs Gladio was accustomed to seeing. He pushed off of the pillar and walked towards him - walked. Gladio grinned broadly. Noctis had clearly kept up with his physical therapy, and the results showed. No walker, no wheelchair in sight, just a cane hooked on his arm - just in case, Gladio imagined. “You grew your hair out, huh?”

“It’s all the rage in Galahd.” Gladio tossed his hair over his shoulder. It’d grown long on the sides and down the back, and he’d trimmed it even, and he tied half of it up into a ponytail. “I thought I’d do the braid if it grew out a little longer.”

“That’d be cool.” Noctis smirked, then peered up at his forehead. “Not sure how I feel about the scar, though.”

“You should see the other guy.” Gladio set his open hand on his hip. “I see you’ve been busy, too.”

“Busy as I can be. It feels good to be moving again.” Noctis stretched, rolling from his heels to the balls of his toes. “I kept going to therapy. Even started doing an extra session every week, as I got stronger. I didn’t want to lose any of the progress I’d made, and maybe even push a little more.”

“I can tell. That’s amazing.” Gladio took Noctis in, his hair combed, face flush with natural color, warm and energetic. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?” A subtle thrill ran over Noctis’ face. “Thanks.” He dodged Gladio’s gaze. “Uh, Prompto told me you were coming back today, so I wanted to show up and make sure I got a chance to see you. I didn’t get to thank you properly before you left.” He kept his eyes low. “So, thank you.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you so much.” 

“It’s my job. Happy to do it.” Gladio patted Noctis’ shoulder, and smiled to himself when he realized how solid Noctis felt - not like him, but denser, more solid than he had been when Gladio had first analyzed him, felt every knobby bone on his wrecked spine, saw his wan muscles quake under the strain of holding himself up. He was so much stronger.

“I’m just sorry I missed so much of it.”

“You’ve missed quite a lot,” Ignis remarked, as coy as ever, “but you’ve plenty of time to catch up now, certainly.”

“Yeah,” Noctis added, “and if you go back to doing therapy, I’d love to switch back to having you as my therapist.”

“I’d take it under advisement, but if you’re doing well with your current clinician, you might want to stick with them.”

“I’m not sure Nyx can push me like you do.” Noctis grinned crookedly and tucked his hands in his pockets. “The only way I’m going to be able to fire Iggy is with you pushing me forward.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis looked amused and surprised, and Gladio laughed broadly. 

“Well, that’ll be between you two.” He opened an arm to Noctis. “Congratulations, kid.” 

“Don’t congratulate me until I’m done.” Noctis gave him a brief touch-and-go hug, then stepped back. “Just be warned, I’m not the only one who’s kept working on myself.” 

“Really?” Gladio raised an eyebrow, but Noctis just chuckled and stood aside. 

“I’ll let you see that one for yourself. Go on. He’s waiting for you.”

Gladio’s heart swelled, two sizes too big even for him. He passed by Noctis and kept scanning the crowd for a familiar face, a sweet smile that made his heart flutter, that head of fluffy blond hair like a crest. Prompto stood out in a crowd, Gladio didn’t think it was possible to miss him. He’d already missed him for six months, and the tentative promise of seeing him again was making him antsy through his whole body. 

“Hey, um - excuse me?” 

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Gladio turned, only to get a faceful of pink and orange gladioli. He sputtered, but heard a gasp and the flowers moved, only to reveal a face that was familiar, and yet different.

Prompto’s hair was slicked into a spunky, spiky crest, and he’d ditched his glasses - hopefully for contacts. However, the real thing that caught Gladio off guard was that Prompto had lost weight.  He wasn’t a stick, he still had a softer middle and thick legs, but his jaw was more defined, his waist was a little narrower, and his chest, hips, legs, and arms were dense with muscle. 

“I thought it was you!” He chirped, his fair face flush with relief. “Your hair - I love it!”

“I love you.” Gladio reached right past the flowers and slid his arms around Prompto’s waist, then lifted him into the air. Prompto squealed with delight as Gladio easily spun him around, a few petals flying loose from the bouquet in his hand. He pulled him in, touching their noses, and Prompto leaned in to kiss him. 

He was as sweet as he’d looked. 

“Look at you,” Gladio murmured, thrilled as he set Prompto back on the ground. “You stuck to the plan?”

“Above and beyond!” Prompto pumped his fists eagerly. “I kept asking myself, what would Gladio do? And I pushed it. I went to a nutritionist and changed my diet around. I kept lifting bigger weights, and sticking out my cardio for longer. I’ve actually got my mile down to seven minutes, can you believe that?”

“I absolutely can.” Gladio looked Prompto up and down again, then patted his arms down. “God damn, look at you! You got buff!" Prompto chuckled proudly, flushing as pink as the flowers in his arms, and Gladio whistled as he touched his bicep. “Shit, you could probably lift me.”

“Oh, checking out the gun show?” Prompto flexed his bicep, giving a cheeky grin that lit up his whole face. Gladio laughed.

“Wish we had guns like that in Galahd.” He patted his arm, then pulled Prompto back into his chest. “I’m sorry I missed seeing the journey.”

“I’m glad I got a chance to surprise you with it!” He laughed into Gladio’s chest, as Gladio squeezed and held him close. “I did it - well, not  _ for _ you, because I did it for me, but I was definitely hoping you would be impressed when I had made this much progress. I kept telling myself, ‘wait ‘til I show him.’” 

“You sure showed me.” Gladio grinned and rubbed his back. “Baby, I’m so damn impressed.”

“I’m not done. I’d like to keep going, maybe get my mile down another thirty seconds.” He rubbed his cheek to Gladio’s chest, then looked up at him, eyes aglow. “Wanna be my running partner?”

“I’d love a running partner.” He held Prompto at arm’s length. “You’ve gotta tell me everything, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this in your letters!”

“Or me,” Marshal Leonis interrupted from behind them, and Gladio turned and saw the Marshal, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Prompto broke away, gasping loudly.

“Uncle Cor!”

“Hey, kid.” Marshal Leonis smirked, then turned a sharp look at Gladio. “I see you’ve met Warrant Officer Amicitia.”

“Marshal.” Gladio swallowed, as he realized just who the Marshall’s son and Prompto’s ‘Uncle’ was. 

Cor Leonis marched towards Prompto, and Prompto bounded towards him and hugged him tight, then faced Gladio again, as Cor studied Gladio with an appraising eye. “So. This is the boyfriend you told me about.”

“I wanted you to meet him in person!” Prompto beamed. “Can he come for game night? When we’re having game night again?”

Cor stared hard at him for a moment. “Prompto tells me he met you at the gym and you helped push him. Inspired him. Maybe pushed a little too hard.”

“Sir.” Gladio maintained a firm expression, but he was sweating bullets under his uniform. “I pushed as hard as I thought he could take, and no harder.”

Prompto nudged Cor with his shoulder. “He pushed pretty hard, but we talked it out when I explained how I felt about it. I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

Cor studied Gladio a moment longer, then broke out a smirk. “Well, then I hope he knows how to play backgammon.” 

Prompto hooked his arm around Gladio’s again, beaming eagerly. “I’ll teach him!”

“I’d really like that.” Gladio looped his arm around Prompto’s and accepted the bouquet Prompto held against his own shoulder. “Mind if we find my dad?”

“I’d love to see Clarus again, it’s been ages.” Cor lined up behind the two of them, and Gladio chuckled nervously. 

Prompto had really gone above and beyond for him. With any luck, he’d have all the time in the world to show Prompto how good things could be for them all over again.

* * *

Prompto’s morning routine had changed. He still ran all the way to the gym at a steady jog. He still stepped on the scale before leaving the locker room, then stopped in front of the full length mirror. He poked at the give in his cheeks, then the pudge still on his belly, then the thick, softest parts of his thighs. However, he flexed his biceps, then turned around and flexed forward to make the muscles on his shoulder and back stand out. 

“I need to step up my shoulder lifting day,” he chuckled, then pulled his gloves on and jogged to the studio. 

Gladio and Nyx traded off who was leading the weight class every other week, and it was Gladio’s week. Prompto loved Gladio’s week, because Gladio was just as enthusiastic as ever. He lit up like a firework when Prompto skittered in and set up his bench and weights, and turned the music on as the clock rolled over to six AM.

“Good morning, everyone! You ready to get the blood pumping?” He pumped his fists in the air. “I wanna see all of you give it your all! And believe me, I know just how much you all got!”

Cindy, still setting up her station next to Prompto, thrilled a little when Gladio winked at him. “Aw, look at ‘im, sug, he’s always twice as big as life when you’re in the room.” 

“I don’t know how much bigger that spirit of his can be.” Prompto grinned and lifted up his bar. 

Gladio was as encouraging as ever, demanding everyone show him what they could do with his usual friendly sense of humor and relentless cheer. He wasn’t just the class leader, he was a cheerleader, and Prompto knew he was lifting the bar an inch higher, squatting just a little lower, and ready to do just one more rep if it would convince Gladio to smile a little more.

“That’s it, everyone! Bring it through the roof!” 

Prompto felt like he was flying when Gladio’s smile landed on him.

After class, once Prompto had finished putting his weights away, Gladio rushed over to him. “Hey, babe.” He kissed Prompto right in the middle of the forehead, then on the mouth. Prompto accepted both kisses, then kissed Gladio on both cheeks.

“You’re all sweaty.” 

“Right back atcha.” Gladio mussed Prompto’s damp hair. Cindy blew a raspberry.

“I’m outta here before y’all gross up the whole place.” She strolled out, following the rest of the class as they trickled out around them, and Prompto and Gladio had the studio all to themselves. Prompto sidled into Gladio’s space, enjoying that he had so much claim on Gladio’s gigantic heart, and that he’d worked up enough confidence to accept that someone could love him this much. 

Gladio had showed him he was worth it. 

“We still on for game night at yours?” Gladio let his arms rest around Prompto’s shoulders, swaying just a little in the open studio. Prompto could feel him relaxing around him; Gladio only really showed this side of himself around him, and Prompto knew it. He rewarded him by snuggling into Gladio’s sternum.

“For sure! Uncle said I can make green tofu curry, even though it burns his mouth, since it’ll be enough to feed everyone.” He pressed his cheek against Gladio’s dense chest, and Gladio patted the side of his head, fluffing his hair. 

“Burns the mouth, huh? Make sure we have something sweet for dessert.”

“I made mango pudding!” Prompto tipped his face towards him, holding his eyes and basking in the way Gladio gazed tenderly down at him. “No sugar added, since the fruit’s so sweet.”

“Sounds delicious.” Gladio beamed and kissed his forehead. “Alright, I gotta get ready for my therapy patients, but you have fun at work. Text me?”

“All day, baby!” Prompto let Gladio release him and stepped back, winking and shooting off finger guns. “If you see Noct, tell him I said ‘hey!’”

“You got it.” Gladio fired one finger gun back, and Prompto keened with glee as he jogged away.

Gladio was coming for dinner that night with Iris and his father so they could play board games together, and after that, Prompto was going to visit Gladio’s new apartment to help him read through a little more of his book collection. They weren’t rushing anything, taking everything one step a time as they learned more and more about each other, what they accepted about each other, what they loved most about each other, what they both still needed to work on. However, Prompto had come to love everything he’d discovered about Gladio so far, and he knew Gladio loved him just as much.

They both had a lot more to discover, but Prompto had come this far already, and he was eager to see what else Gladio had to show him, and just how much he could give back. 


End file.
